


I Can't Wait for You To Shut Me Up

by Lost_in_Paradise



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: And he's going to be a jerk. Because he is, Citadel of Ricks, Drugs, Eventual Smut, Evil Morty kinda, F/M, I mean its Rick, I'm sure there will be some kinky shit eventually but not super crazy, Kind of a blend of the show and the game, Kinda dubcon at some point, Maybe some fluffy crap, Multi, NO MORTYS ARE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS FIC, Protective Rick, Rick Being an Asshole, Roughly college aged reader, Shady Business, THIS IS READER INSERT, This is more horny than anything else, This might scale up to explicit, Y/N RIDES AGAIN, You Have Been Warned, adult reader, alcohol mention, alcohol use, cliche in the best ways, look its Rick and Morty I'm sure there will be some violence but not like crazy, none of this fluffy crap, pocket mortys - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29731512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_in_Paradise/pseuds/Lost_in_Paradise
Summary: Anything to get out of the house is the theme of this summer. Being a college student in between jobs and a late start term is a lot less fun than the movies would have had you believe. When a friend of a friend said they needed a house-sitter for a week or so, you jumped at the opportunity. It was a change of scenery at least.You're all ready to relax at the Smith household, maybe drink some wine and have time to yourself. But on the first night you're about to go to sleep when a glowing green portal opens up in the living room. After investigating you fall through into the Citadel of Ricks, and the Rick from your dimension is planning something big.Will you make it home alive? Will you ever stop wanting to punch the smartest man alive? Will you make it out of this mess with your sanity intact? Find out!Eventual smut!
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Original Female Character(s), Rick Sanchez/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Should have gone to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Are these reader insert fics even cool anymore? I don't know if I care.
> 
> Look, I mostly wanted to write some fun, cliche hi-jinx on the citadel and I wanted the reader to be an adult. Being a teenager sucks, alright? 
> 
> Anyway, just assume you're somewhere around college-aged. Pretend you live in a dimension where they let you drink starting at 18 in the States if you don't want to be 21.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The Smiths lived in a very pleasant cookie-cutter suburban neighborhood. Rows of lovely little houses, complete with white picket fences etc etc. You turned off your phone's GPS as you pulled into the driveway.

Your little red car may have been old enough to legally vote, but it got you places until you went back to school. You fished the keys out of your cavernous overnight bag where you’d stuffed a couple changes of clothes. Beth Smith had been so kind over the phone, telling you to help yourself to everything in the house. You agreed, but made a mental note to run to the grocery store on the way to pick up some staples and, if you were completely honest, some booze to give you something to do. 

After placing your bags down and nabbing the grocery bags out of the trunk of your car, you trekked into the kitchen. Beth had left a note outlining some basic info: where the breakers are, her number, her father’s number, and weirdly enough a request to stay out of the garage and a couple of cabinets and shelves of the fridge. Your curiosity was piqued, but you weren’t sure if they were one of those family who had hidden cameras. Better to be professional and not risk it. 

Mounting the stairs you dragged your bag down the hallway, moving towards the master bedroom. Finally, you flopped down onto the bed and sighed. Something different, peace and quiet.

Flipping onto your stomach, you immediately texted your parents letting them know you had arrived and were safe. Even though you were technically an adult they worried. You plugged it into a charger and left it upstairs. Fishing out your laptop, you went downstairs to make some lunch and mindlessly wander the internet to your hearts desire. 

Honestly, you were pretty tired. Your sleep schedule was a bit fucked. Considering you didn’t have anything to do, it wasn’t like there was much incentive to fix it. A nap wouldn’t hurt, right? You reached out for the remote and turned on Netflix. Picking a simple TV show you’d watched hundreds of times, you quickly fell asleep on the couch. 

***

You woke up around dinner time, and stretched. Jeez, your back was killing you. Next time you’d make sure to go upstairs. Ruffling your (h/c) hair, you sighed and trooped to the kitchen to make a simple meal and fish out one of the bottles of wine you’d brought.

An hour later half the bottle was gone and you were pleasantly buzzed. A shower then the rest of the bottle? Sounds like a plan. 

After letting the hot water reinvigorate you, you quickly soaped up then rinsed off. Dabbing delicately at your skin with a towel, you pulled your (f/scent) body butter and let the comforting smell relax you. 

Luckily, you’d had the forethought to bring the bottle of wine upstairs with you. After quickly tugging on a pair of black panties and a tank top, you poured yourself a huge glass and selected your favorite playlist. 

As you tipsily debated texting your crush from your (f/class) you flung your arm out and knocked over a (thankfully) empty glass. The shattering sound made you snap out of the haze of alcohol and you yelped.

“Shit!” 

Groaning audibly you walked down the stairs into the darkened first floor and looked around for a broom and dustpan. When you couldn’t find it in the kitchen, you figured there must be one in the garage. That’s where most people kept their cleaning stuff, right?

Just as you were about to pull the door open you froze, remembering Beth’s note. 

Oh whatever, you thought to yourself, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me nipping in and out to grab a broom. 

Steeling yourself, you opened the door and flicked the light switch 

Goosebumps erupted on your bare arms and legs from the night’s chill. What lay behind the door was….a perfectly normal garage. Weird. 

Not wanting to linger, you tiptoed in quickly locating a small dustpan and broom. Grabbing it, you got out of the garage as fast as you could. You could sense something that didn’t want you in there. 

***

Ok so, even with your expertly timed shower you were still up at 2:30 am. It wasn’t like there was any reason to hurry into bed or whatever.

You sipped at the vodka sprite you’d been nursing for a couple hours. You knew you should brush your teeth and go to sleep but honestly? You were feeling lazy. 

Suddenly, there was a crash downstairs.

Your heart hammered, the alcohol dulling your senses utterly blown away by your fear of being alone and vulnerable in a strangers’ house. 

You tiptoed downstairs, holding your phone and the empty wine bottle as a makeshift weapon. Halfway down the steps you stopped in your tracks.

There was an eerie green light cast over the entire first floor. Moving like you were in a dream you approached the source. A giant circle of what looked like a viscous puddle of toxic green light rotated. Your drunkenness, half nakedness, and all thoughts of sleep forgotten you approached the anomaly. 

It looked almost sticky, you placed your phone down on the living room table and poked the circle with the wine bottle. To your surprise it slid through, you were expecting some resistance. 

Tentatively you reached out a finger and poked the substance. When it didn’t hurt, you slowly, slowly moved to place your hand, now bathed in eerie green light, on the material. 

Suddenly, something grabbed your wrist and yanked you through. You fell through the portal and crash landed onto the surface of an unfamiliar location.


	2. Don't walk into strange portals

The adrenaline coursing through your veins almost made you miss the sound of the portal closing behind you. You pushed yourself up on unstable legs and turned, feeling frantically around, hoping to feel yourself falling back into the Smith household.

You were drunk and scared. You weren’t even wearing shoes! Oh my god, you aren’t wearing shoes. 

Oh my god, you weren’t even wearing pants.

Just as embarrassment began to flood your mind, flushing your cheeks and heating up your entire face, the sound of someone moving behind you chilled your blood. 

A rough voice barked an order. “Stand still, place your hands on your head, and turn around slowly. I won’t hesitate to shoot.” 

You did as you were told, keeping your eyes glued to the man’s feet. Maybe if you didn’t see his face, he wouldn’t have to kill you, right? 

“I-I don’t know you, I ca-can’t recog-recognize..” you tried to force the words out as your heart hammered in your chest. The man didn’t say anything. He was lanky, but something about his stance told your unconscious that he was a seasoned fighter. Danger warnings flickered like alarm bells in your head. 

“Who are you.” He asked, gun trained on you still. You immediately burst out.

“I’m just the house sitter! Beth Smith asked me to stay while the kids were on a school trip and she and her husband took a vacation! I swear I don’t know anything! I won’t say anything, let me go home please!”

“Beth? Shit.” The man growled. “I-I thought Morty was home.”

“Please!” You begged, “He’s on a school trip or something! I didn’t get the details.” 

“Shit, shit shit.” The man dropped the gun, but you kept your head down. Suddenly you both noticed someone approaching from behind him. 

“Get down!” The guy yelled and you didn’t have to be told twice. You hit the ground so fast you knew you’d have bruises. Immediately lasers began to zip through the air. You crawled to a garbage can and took refuge behind it. When a laser hit the metal and disintegrated it, you took that opportunity to run. 

After dipping down several alleyways and circling in a roundabout manner to ensure you weren’t being followed you finally slowed down to take in your surroundings. You were in a pretty rundown area. Beat up buildings, trash littering the streets, and a general grime that you cringed at. You caught your breath then leaned over and vomited the contents of your stomach. As you were coughing and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand you heard a group of boys giggle.

“G-get it all out.” You turned to see a couple of young teen boys watching you. Great.

“Hey guys.” You said roughly, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “Do you know where I could find some help around here? Like a police station or…?”

The kids kept snickering and one mumbled something. You were starting to feel a bit annoyed. 

“Y-you won’t find much around here. This is Mortytown. So what dimension are you?”

“Dimension?” You asked confused. You caught the words Hooker Morty and laughter. 

“Yeah. D-dimension. You look like y-you’re from outside the central curve or whatever.”

“Alright cool, thanks for your time or whatever but I’ve got to go.” You let some of your irritation slip into your tone and turned to leave. 

“H-hey, wait up.” One grabbed your arm and you cringed slightly. They obviously hadn’t quite hit their growth spurts but against a group? You didn’t love the odds. Yanking your wrist out of his grip, you spun to give these little pubescent creeps a piece of your mind when the words died on your tongue.

“Y…you guys.” You gaped, they were identical! All of them the same person. Like little clone troopers or…something. 

You could feel the color draining from your face as you backed up and started to slowly try to distance yourself from the groups. They looked bemused, but a couple still giggled. Your head was spinning with booze, fear, and confusion. Just as you felt yourself starting to spiral a firm hand reached out and grabbed your shoulder.

“O-okay guys. Ti-time to go.” You looked to your right and the same clone kid is standing there, except this one is in an apron like a cute little bodega shopkeeper. 

“Aw jeez, man.” The little leader piped up. “W-we were just being friendly. Like showing her around the neighborhood and stuff.”

“Y-yeah, sure.” The store owner glared. “Run along now. D-don’t you have other plans?” 

The group shuffled away mumbling and shooting glances at you. You were running on fumes at this point. The shopkeep locked the glass doors and ushered you past a purple employee with what appeared to be a trunk. Once you reached the shop’s storage area he gestured to a small fold out chair he had. 

“S-sit down. I’m Morty, well, we-we all are. But y-you aren’t, right?”

“Nope,” you said, sagging slightly as the exhaustion hit your system. “I’m (y/n). I was house sitting when I tumbled through some sort of portal and now I’m lost.”

“W-wow a portal? To the Citadel? Th-that doesn’t happen often.” Morty said, his eyes round and confused. “W-we aren’t allowed to portal freely here.”

“We?” You asked, suddenly making the connection. “You guys are all the same age. You’re the same person.” 

“Y-yeah. I’m technically Morty Smith, dimension J-459.”

“Ok, wow.” Your head was suddenly aching. “Does that mean….”

“That infinite dimensions exists with infinite versions of yourself and everyone else? Yes.”

You could feel your breathing start to speed up. Morty seemed to realize too, he frowned and left the room. He returned with a packaged sandwich and a red plastic cup. You eagerly accepted both, eating the sandwich in a few quick bites and gulping down the liquid. When the smell hit your throat you choked.

“Jesus, what is that? Gasoline?!” You sputtered. Morty didn’t seem fazed.

“Hair of the dog. The Ricks around here use it to take the edge off of hangovers.” 

“Where is here…exactly.” You asked, voice hoarse from the strong liquor. 

“The Citadel of Ricks. A haven for Ricks a-and Mortys from all dimensions.” 

“There’s an entire citadel of just two people?” You felt your head spin.

“Y-yup! Which is why those Mortys were so interested in you! We don’t get outsiders ever. I-I don’t even know if its legal…” He trailed off. Your shivers had nothing to do with the cool air from the refrigeration units. 

The shopkeep Morty excused himself to let his employee out and draw the shutters. You sat there with your legs crossed and arms around yourself, trying to feel less exposed.

“O-okay.” Shopkeep Morty came back. “I-I’m going to send you to meet a friend of mine. They’re at the Creepy Morty right now. Th-they can help you out until you can get back to your dimension.”

“Thank you.” You said, deeply grateful. “Do you have any clothes I could wear? Or shoes?” 

“S-sorry.” Shopkeep Morty said, looking genuinely regretful. 

You winced, but quickly thanked him. He gave you directions and you stood on your aching feet to start moving again into the night.

***

You rubbed your goose-bumpy arms and walked as quickly as you could towards the pulsating neon lights of the Creepy Morty. Shadows moved in alleys and Mortys openly stared. You really hoped the one from your dimension wasn’t here. How would you explain that to Beth? This whole house sitting deal was a dream come true…right up until a spinning puddle of green goop opened up smack in the middle of the living room. 

You reached the door and the two roided out Morty bouncers gave you a quick up and down before letting you in. You walked past them with as much dignity as you could muster.

“Just like being at the beach.” You mumbled to yourself. You walked up to the bar and asked for the Stumbling Smith special.

The bartender stroked his mustache and eyed you up and down before nodding and ushering you towards a back room separated by beaded curtains. 

When you pushed the clacking beads aside you stepped in and then froze. It was the man who’d held you at gunpoint. He met your eyes and tossed back a martini. 

“I’m-uurp-not who you think I am. Relax. I’m Rick G-163. I’ll help you out.”

“Rick.” You rolled the name around in your mouth. He raised his eyebrow.

“Did coming through the portal give you brain damage? Yes, I’m Rick. We’re all Ricks, unless we’re Mortys.” 

“Whatever.” You snapped, moving to sit down across from him. “Can I get a drink?” 

“Sure, whatever. I’ll make you some clothes while I’m at it. What do you want?”

“Double rum and coke.” You sighed, resting your head on the table. Rick walked out and you heard the clinking of some bottles. He came back with a pair of black shorts, shoes and socks, and your drink. 

“Y-you’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise you’d be screwed. I’ve got a house around here you can stay at. Don’t worry, we’ll find the Rick from your dimension and get you home eventually.”

You choked on your drink. “Eventually?”

“Look, (y/n). We’ve got shit to do out here ok? Like important, illegal shit. We run on a tight, underground schedule. Y-you're an afterthought at best.”

You mumbled a few choice words but stayed silent, playing with the hem of your new clothes. Rick G-163 ignored you, fiddling with his watch and tinkering with a small lump of metal and electrical components in front of him. You watched him out of the corner of your eye for as long as you could, but you started to nod off. Just as you were about to collapse into total sleep, he gave a shout of triumph.

“Yeah, baby!” 

You jolted upright and he blasted you with a ray. 

“What? Oh my ….god.” Your voice cracked and pitched up. You grasped at your chest and hips as you lost your curves and your hair shot backwards into your skull. You looked exactly like every other Morty in town. 

The whole process took only a few seconds but your entire body was tingling in a strange pins and needles way. You wobbled but managed to remain upright. Rick offered you his flask and you accepted, mentally noting that you were going to need an entire detox week after this mess. 

Shuddering at the burn you took a final watery sip of your drink to wash it down and you followed Rick out to the street. Nobody looked at you twice. You were able to get out to the street without further incident. You savored the feeling of actually wearing shoes…its the little things.

You trailed after the tall man, struggling to keep up with his strides. You ached all over, but was bolstered by the knowledge that at the end of it was a place to sleep.

When you finally made it, you had no idea how you got there. Yes, that was a poor decision, but in fairness you were ready to crash. 

Rick G-163 held the door open for you, and you nodded as you trudged into the house. 

The minute you stepped into the house, Rick G-163 hit you with the ray. You shuddered as the transformation was reversed. 

Unfortunately for you the Rick that was waiting in the house was, in fact, the Rick who had held a gun to your head. 

Even worse, You backed up into Rick G-163 in the process of trying to get away and he laughed and shoved you. You fell to your hands and knees in front of your dimension’s Rick. 

You had been set up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhhh sexy peril. I told you this would be incredibly cliche. Hopefully I'll be able to get these chapters out at a steady rate. Luckily being in COVID lockdown means I have a lot of free time.
> 
> Can you tell I've walked around outside without shoes on before? God I remember a night out my sophomore year at Halloween where my shoes were KILLING me and I walked back from the club in bare feet. The next day they were SO sore. Shoes are a blessing, never forget that.


	3. Trust No-one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is when the cliches really start. I'm not sorry! Please feel free to play early 2000s teen comedy music when appropriate.
> 
> I've also changed the rating to explicit. Let's not pretend this is going anywhere else.
> 
> Warning: If you don't like bugs its probably time to back out

They’d laughed and griped at each other in a friendly way. Rick G-163 reclined ever so casually at the seat closet to the door. Whenever you glanced at it, he gave you a knowing smirk. Your Rick merely glared at you before ordering you to stand up and raise your arms. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Be grateful I’m-uurp-not telling you to strip. I’ve gotta scan you.” 

The process took ages. First came multiple tissue level scans, followed up by a manual pat down. 

You could’ve sworn he lingered a little too long, only backing off when you puffed out a long suffering sigh. 

Once satisfied you weren’t a spy, your Rick shoved you into a room and locked the door. You gingerly jiggled the handle and sighed. 

“I guess it could be worse.” You slumped onto the bed then toppled backwards. You were asleep before you could even crawl between the covers. 

****

You woke up aching all over, but at least you’d gotten some rest. You stretched and padded over to try the door handle, hissing at the residual soreness in your feet. To your surprise, the door was open and you hesitantly slipped out. You walked down the hallway towards the living room, following the sound of voices.

You were never going to get used to seeing two identical men staring intensely at each other. You walked past them and started to dig around the kitchenette. God this place was a dump.

After locating some eggs you cracked them into a pan, feeling your stomach flip. 

“How’s Sleeping Beauty feeling?” You could hear the smugness in the Rick’s voice. You gave him the finger. 

“That good, eh?” 

Shuffling to a rickety table and chair you chewed your eggs, trying to keep your food down.

“Want a drink?” A Rick offered. “Hair of the dog?”

You cringed. “I’d rather die, thanks. When do I get to go home?” 

“N-not yet. The Citadel is onto us, they know someone portalled in illegally. We can’t risk sending you back.” 

You felt your stomach heave and barely made it to the kitchen sink, before vomiting up your breakfast. You stared at the mess, trying to control your racing heartbeat. A Rick tapped you on the shoulder. 

“H-here. Try this.” He handed you a round dish with a little round creature in it.

“Uh…what do I do with this?” You asked, nudging the blob with a nail. Rick rolled his eyes.

“Uhhh, you squeeze it into your eyes.”

“The fuck?” You asked, nonplussed. “Isn’t it alive?”

“Look. Either you use the damn thing or you feel like shit all day. I don’t care.” He growled and you acquiesced. It worked like magic. 

You stretched and turned to face the Rick that had helped you. “Which one are you?” You asked, trying to pick up on an identifying feature that might help you differentiate.

“I’m from your -uurp- dimension.” He stated, taking a swig from his flask. Even without the hangover the ethanol stench made you wrinkle your nose. “Rick G-163 is over there.” G-163 was back to fiddling with scraps in front of him. Apparently he couldn’t keep still for long. 

“Rick, get back here.” He ordered. Your Rick shrugged and sauntered over. He tapped a few commands and a detailed map of the Citadel sprung up.

You were entranced, you forgot your dingy beige surroundings. You’d never seen anything so advanced, hell. You’d never seen a hologram in real life.

“Woah.” You mumbled as you drifted towards it, trying to drink in everything.

“Careful.” Rick G-163 warned as you reached out to touch it and the whole thing glitched. In the daylight you could detect a few faint scars shining pearly white on his face. He rubbed them unconsciously, like an old ache. 

“Where’s the drop.” Your Rick asked, a new light in his eyes. G-163 frowned.

“Directly to the Presidential Palace. No chance of entry. W-we can’t intercept it.”

Rick growled, angrily slamming his fist on the table. The display jiggled and you reached out to steady it. 

“So we’re shit out of luck.” 

G-163 raised his brow. “I didn’t say that.”

He motioned for you to pass him the gadget, and he pulled up a notice emblazoned with the Citadel’s logo. 

“To celebrate the first democratic election, they’re holding a gala. That’s our in.”

Rick gave him a long calculating look. “Y-you think it’ll work?”

“It’s our best shot.” Rick G-163 stated bluntly. “The odds are long, but we might be able to pull it off. As far as my informant knows, the coup was successful and they’re not planning for any attacks right now. The focus is going to be on covering up their tracks.”

Your Rick blew out a long breath. “I always knew you were a crazy son of a bitch. I’m in.”

“(Y/n), are you?” G-163’s question caught you off guard.

“What?” You asked dumbly. Both Rick’s faces tightened slightly in annoyance. 

“You. Coming with us.” G-163 spoke slower than was strictly necessary. You barely restrained yourself from rolling your eyes. 

“Why do you need me? I’m more of a liability than a help.”

Rick took another gulp of his flask. “Y-urrp-you got that right. But unfortunately we need a lookout while G-163 and I sneak into the inner chambers.”

“And you think I’ll be able to manage that?” You asked skeptically. Both Ricks shrugged in unison. It was kind of creepy if you were being honest.

“Better than nobody doing it.” Your Rick mumbled. 

“If you get this…stuff…then can I go home?” You asked, exasperated. 

Your Rick grinned, stretching out his long legs. “Yup.” 

“And you’re not letting me leave until you do, right?” You asked.

“You don’t need to be a genius to figure that one out.”

“Fine. What do you need me to do?”

****

You were shaken awake unceremoniously by G-163. His hands had those same silvery marks as his face. He pushed a vial at you, which you downed without question. After 20 minutes of being ignored, you decided that getting rested would be the most helpful thing to do. After the concoction dragged you back to full alertness, The Ricks filled you in on the plan.

“Y-you’re going to go with your Rick as his plus one.” Rick G-163 said without looking up from the contraption in front of him. “You’ll mingle with the crowd for a bit and t-then split. He’ll go upstairs with me and you’ll position yourself here,” He motioned at a spot in a gigantic ballroom. “You’ll tell us if you see anyone moving towards the second floor.”

Your Rick butted in. “I-it should be the start of the private wing. Anyone accessing the area should have to go through there. Even if they use the se-ECret passages in the walls.” 

“Where are you going?” You asked G-163. He brushed you off with a wave. “I-I have my ways.” 

You looked to your Rick for an explanation but he shook his head almost imperceptibly. You filed that away for another time. 

“So, are you going to use the Morty ray on me again?” 

Your Rick chuckled blackly. “Nope, there’s no way any average Mortys are making it in there. The exotic trade is-uurp- tightly regulated. We’d never make it.”

“That’s a weird way to talk about your grandkids.” You noted with a frown. Both Ricks snorted.

“Infinite grandkids means that most Ricks don’t give a shit. Rich ones will pay a pretty penny for the rarest versions. Nah, you’ll be my alien bride.”

You felt your eye start to twitch a little. That was a new one.

“Ooookay.” You hesitantly agreed. “What does that entail…exactly.”

“Relax.” Your Rick said. “We’re just going to paint you blue. There’s a planet called Cidadodea 9, I-I snagged some of their genetic material.” 

“Uh huh.” You folded your arms. “And what if I get stuck as a Cida-whatever forever?”

“Relax.” Rick growled. “It’ll be fine.” 

Before you could argue, G-163 had grabbed you from behind, effectively pinning you in place. Your Rick injected you with a serum that left your whole body raw and tingling like an exposed nerve.

“W-we’re on a time limit.” He said, ignoring you curled into yourself on the ground shuddering. “We’ve got 8 hours before that wears off. That gives us 5 hours after the Gala starts to get in, grab the flakes and get out.”

“Jesus.” You choked out, finally regaining a sense of your surroundings. “Why did you have to stick it in so early?!”

Both Ricks laughed and you flushed, but remained angry. 

“You-you gotta get ready.” Rick G-163 said, in-between hiccups of laugher. “Plus y-you gotta relearn how to walk.”

“I have to do what?!” You sputtered, pushing yourself to you feet. You swayed unsteadily and out of instinct your wings flared out to support you.

Wait WHAT? 

You reached back your hands to grab at your new appendages, wincing when you made contact. They were sensitive and downy. You could feel your heart rate pick up.

“What do I look like?” You asked in a shaking voice. Your Rick huffed but took pity on you, helping you into the bathroom where you could get a full look at your new body.

He wasn’t kidding. You were blue! With strange iridescent wings and a pair of fine stubby antenna sprouting above your wide set orange eyes. You felt your ears and much to your consternation they were still there, but oddly ridged. 

Your hair was a much darker iridescent color, but it too shifted with the light. Speckles of bright red orange dotted your face. It took you getting too close to the cluster of three in the center to realize they were three extra pairs of eyes. 

“What. The. Fuck. Rick.” You said marveling that you could close your two large eyes and still see. “Since when has there been an alien planet of butterfly people?!”

“Its -UURP- technically cicada people.” He said, bored already with your strange form. “J-just remember that you’re from Cidadodea 9. Don’t sweat it though. Everyone thinks y-you’ve been underground as a larvae for like 10 rotations.” 

“Thanks.” You said sarcastically, wobbling around the room. Your wings added an unexpected weight that threatened to tip you back onto your ass. Rick smirked as you practiced moving, looking like a freshly born baby deer. After 15 minutes you were able to walk without clinging to counters. After 45 you were moving almost as well as you did in human form. Your body seemed to have the rhythm stored inside itself naturally, you just had to let it lead you. 

When you successfully made it around the house twice, Rick G-163 gave you a round of applause while you bowed followed by promptly toppling over onto the floor. He unrepentantly stared at your ass as you pushed yourself upright. 

“C-cicada people is a good look for you, (Y/n).”

Your Rick pushed past, looking grumpy. We’ve wasted an hour, it’s time to get ready and go over the plan again.

“Buzzkill.” You mumbled. The word vibrating in your chest and back oddly. Right under your wings were two strange ridged organs that you could click open and closed if you concentrated. You buzzed happily for a second before your Rick yelled at you to knock it off and go get dressed.

“Whatever.” you mumbled, slinking off to grab the dress from the closet. Rick G-163 raised his eyebrow at the sulky Rick but continued to tinker.

You plucked the dress from the closet, G-163 must have left it there when you were asleep. Unzipping the garment bag, you gasped.

It was a beautiful purple fabric imbued with tiny star-like clusters and glowing nebulae. Every so often a meteor would shoot across. You pulled it on, marveling how it fit like a glove. They must have gotten it on the cicada people planet. Maybe when they stole the body. You pushed that thought away uncomfortably. 

The dress dipped down in the back to make room for your delicate wings. It clung tightly to your form until it reached your knees, where it rippled into a beautiful mermaid style train. 

You made a note to thank Rick G-163 for giving you a set of flats, instead of heels. You also found a small robot with a note taped to it.

JUST PRESS THE GREEN BUTTON. 

So you did. It sprung to life.

“I am a cosmetology robot. My purpose in life is to do cosmetic procedures. You have selected preset style number 8. President’s Gala. Is that correct?”

“Uh, yes?” You said, somewhat unsure. The robot whirred to life, working its limbs into your (h/l) hair, adjusting and styling it into a flawless finish. 

It turned to face you. “Cosmetic application commencing. All five eyes will be protected.”

“Thank you.” You said before you could stop yourself. The robot didn’t say anything. working intently. When it was finished you stumbled your way out back to the Ricks, trying to navigate your floor length gown and added wing weight. 

You were so focused on keeping your balance you didn’t even notice when you crashed into your dimension’s Rick. He steadied you. 

Your gaze traveled up his body, from his shiny dress shoes to his sharp, well fitting suit. His chest expanded and contracted with each breath and by the time you met his gaze you were sure your face was going to burst into flames. He stared down at you, unimpressed while you frantically tried to decide if cicada people blushed like regular humans.

“Looking good, (Y/n)!” G-163 cheered, giving you a once over. He had dressed in a tight, form fitting black bodysuit. You frowned a little, he wasn’t exactly stealthy. 

He caught your expression and winked, tapping a command into the panel on his left forearm. Suddenly his suit went completely invisible, you could see straight through him! He waggled his eyebrow at you and you laughed out of sheer amazement. 

Your Rick coughed, and said “We don’t have time to stand here with our dicks out. Let’s go.” 

He grabbed you by the upper arm and roughly pulled you next to him. You stumbled and he steadied you with an arm wrapped possessively around your hip. 

“Let do this shit.” He said.


	4. Oops

You fiddled with your dress as you sat in the plush car Rick had ordered with a swipe of a black Citadel credits card. The Morty driver was hidden behind tinted glass, likely engineered to give passengers privacy. Upon entering, Rick had immediately seized the champagne and proceeded to pour two full glasses.

“Be-uurp-careful with that (Y/n).” He’d had the forethought to warn. “Th-they fortify it here. We’re all raging alcoholics.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you took a sip. It tasted lovely, but after a few gulps you could definitely feel it. Rick, on the other hand, seemed to have the tolerance of a man significantly larger. 

You noticed the Morty chauffeur shooting you glances through the mirror. Maybe the tinted glass was more about the illusion of privacy. You suppressed a shiver. 

As the champagne loosened your inhibitions, you began to appraise the man sitting next to you. You hated to admit it, but he cleaned up nicely. The aura of self assured confidence he gave off definitely made you weak in the knees. He was a man who knew how to handle himself in any situation. He caught you staring before you realized it and smirked. 

“Like what you see?” He asked low and rough, you ignored him and tried to pour another glass with shaking hands. He chuckled and his long fingers wrapped around yours, steadying both the bottle and glass. 

“Thank you,” you murmured. He nodded and went back to staring out the window. The chauffeur Morty pressed a button on the intercom.

“Sir, we’re approaching the Presidential Palace.” 

Rick raised his hand in acknowledgement as you decided to down your glass as fast as possible. As the buzz blanketed your mind, you relaxed a bit, even going as far as to lean into Rick. He blinked, then looked down at you in surprise. He tilted your chin up with a finger and whispered into your ear.

“Hold it together, (Y/n) we aren’t even there yet.” 

When you met his eyes, you unconsciously started to buzz. The look he gave you quelled it.

“Behave.” He ordered and you flushed, feeling something warm start to swim in the pit of your stomach. 

“We’re here.” Chauffeur Morty said blandly. Moving to open the door for both you and Rick. 

When the Morty offered you a gloved hand you took it, fluttering your wings slightly to keep your balance. 

The opulence was overwhelming. All around you swarmed Rick, colorful Mortys, and hundreds of varieties of alien life. You closed your two large eyes in an attempt to steady yourself. Rick leaned down as if he was giving you a kiss.

“Stay with me, don’t say much.”

You smiled as if he’d said something sweet, instead of terrifying and the pair of you moved off through the crowd. 

If the Ricks dressed to the 9s was garish, it was nothing compared to the Mortys. They were decked out in jewels and furs, like little living dolls. If you were honest, it gave you the creeps.

A Fawn Morty blinked bashfully up at his Rick, who was introducing him to other exotic Morty fanatics. 

You caught sight of a bleach blond Morty in a sequin mini dress chatting animatedly to a green Morty who looked like they walked straight out of a 1960s mod magazine. 

Rick guided you gently through the crowd, as you gaped. Just before getting in line to pass through security you spotted a Morty on a platform. She was spinning in a circle to show off her lovely evening gown with matching diamonds. You tugged on Rick’s arm.

“Who is that?” You asked.

He looked over and whistled. “That is a Morticia. Incredibly rare, they really pulled out all the stops tonight.”

As you approached the entrance you were surrounded by members of the Citadel militia. Ricks and Mortys in shiny black boots and crisp uniforms patrolled up and down the cluster of people, their stern gazes set your teeth oh edge. You couldn’t suppress a nervous buzz, and your Rick shot you a look. 

Your wings were fluttering, earning you a long stare from a militia Morty. Rick leaned in and mumbled something you didn’t catch. Your palms were sweaty, something apparently even cicada people had to deal with. 

Rick was mingling with other Ricks, guffawing and cracking bawdy jokes, but you could spot a tension thrumming throughout his entire body. You wondered how G-163 was faring. 

You reached the ornate tear drop shaped doors. An imposing banner hung over it, gold and red thread shimmering in the electric lights. 

“May I see your invitation?” A militia Rick motioned with a gloved hand. Your Rick handed him a cream envelope embossed with the same symbol that surrounded you. An omnipresent reminder of the government’s power. 

After examining it closely, you were waved through into the foyer. Much to your consternation, the guests were being walked through a large scanning machine. The machine looked a lot like an airport scanner, but you were sure it was light years ahead in technological ability. 

“Riiick.” You said, smiling in what you hoped looked more flirtatious than rigor mortis. “What the fuck do we do?”

“I know, I know.” He muttered. "Working on it." 

The pair of you were rapidly approaching the machine. Rick was fidgeting with something concealed in his inside pocket. Your insect eyes traced a bead of sweat traveling down his temple. Just as you were mentally resigning yourself to being tossed in a futuristic prison, Rick walked through the detector.

Your heart sank as a beeping noise echoed throughout the hallway. A militia Rick and Morty moved purposefully towards him and….he laughed. 

The bastard laughed, and with a smooth motion pulled out a metal flask. He tossed it to a nearby Morty who opened it, took a whiff and nearly gagged. The militia Rick laughed and handed it back.

“Just keep it orderly in there.” He ordered, slapping his smaller partner on the back. 

He ushered you through the machine, and you made it through without incident. 

“What the hell happened in there?” You hissed at Rick as he offered you his arm. 

“Scrambler.” He winked. “G-163 and I developed it while you were getting the makeover.”

You rolled all five of your eyes, but were quickly distracted by the cavernous room you found yourself in.

There were at least 10 chandeliers glimmering above. The outskirts of the room were lined with tables bursting with exotic alien delicacies flanked by several well stocked bars. The center of the room was packed with Ricks and their guests. Some swayed to the tune played by the full symphony orchestra. Some swayed, obviously drunk, and most simply moving from Rick to Rick, networking and setting the foundation for business deals to come. 

You couldn’t stop revolving on the spot, like a child at a candy store. 

“Is that a Willy Wonka Rick? Is that Morty a lizard person? Oh look, the Morticia is back! You’d think she was a rock star.”

“Focus, bug brain. You act like you’ve been in a cocoon your entire life.” Rick said, gulping from his flask. “Let’s just -UUrp- get a drink and avoid everyone who looks important.”

You pouted, but acquiesced. Weaving through the crowd took most of your brainpower. People formed tightly knit clusters, gesturing and bumping into each other left and right. The drone of conversations made you feel unexpectedly sleepy and relaxed. Fortunately, nobody looked twice at a Rick walking with single minded purpose towards a bar.

Suddenly in your peripheral vision, the largest crowd yet was moving in your direction. Camera bulbs flashed and you could make out people shouting questions, compliments, requests, and more. You turned to look, but Rick grabbed your arm and said, “Go, go go.”

The two of you dived back into the crowd and made a beeline for a hallway branching off. You collapsed on a couch, puffing and letting the cool air dry your sweat.

“Who was that?” You asked, fanning yourself with a cocktail napkin.

“President Morty.” Rick growled. You had to fight to hold back laughter.

“Ok. Ok, hilarious. Who is it really?”

“I said what I said, dipshit” Rick was typing frenetically into a small tablet. “We have a Morty president.”

“You’re telling me that you, a group of the smartest mad scientists in multiple universes, elected a 14 year old kid.”

“Look, I don’t really fuck with the Citadel, I’m just here to rob them.”

“Sure, but these are all you from other universes, and you’re telling me you elected a literal pubescent child.” 

“What do you want me to tell you?” He pressed a button and the tablet collapsed down to the sized of of a credit card. “He was democratically elected.”

“Alright.” You dropped the subject. You looked down at the decorated cocktail napkin “What is this weird symbol everywhere?” 

Rick stretched and took another swig. Whatever he had was especially potent, just a whiff made your eyes water and stomach heave. 

“M and R. Ricks and Mortys. Used to just be R, but the little turd changed it.”

The tone of his voice pushed your buttons a bit. “Just R? Maybe this new president has the right idea.”

“Don’t be a-UUrp- idiot, (Y/n). Mortys have their place and its beneath Ricks. That’s how it works.”

You frowned. “Maybe that’s why a 14 year old was able to beat the smartest man in the universe in a democratic election. Maybe times are finally changing for the better around here. Did you think about that?” 

Rick’s entire aspect darkened. He leaned in close enough that you could still smell the liquor on his breath.

“Your little Morty messiah out there took out almost the entire shadow council in a completely silent coup. There’s rumors circulating that he was connected to a spat of Rick killings back before the Citadel was rebuilt. But nobody knows, offically he just appeared one day.”

Your whole body was tensed. Rick leaned back into his own space. 

“Y-you don’t believe me, ask G-163. He wasn’t a fan of the old council but even he knows this guy is bad news.”

You could see President Morty from where you were sitting, his image was projected on large screens as he waved at his constituents from a raised platform. Influential Ricks were clamoring to get a chance just to shake his hand and potentially gain a powerful ally. Could this high school freshman really have orchestrated a totalitarian takeover? 

Rick nudged you, his fit of irritation seemingly over. “Its go time.”

He pointed to the gold column two down from the hallway. “Stand there and keep an eye on the second floor directly across. Don’t fuck it up.”

You barely restrained yourself from snapping at him, but before you could argue he shoved something into your ear. 

“Ouch! What the hell was that for?!” You yelled, rubbing the offending spot. 

“Relax.” Rick’s voice came both from two places. “I-its just a semi organic earpiece. Like how wasps crawl into peoples heads. I-I gotta go. Grab a drink and get in position.”

Within the blink of an eye he’d sauntered off through the crowd. You cringed slightly at the feeling of the earpiece securing itself, but did as you were told. 

A bartending Morty handed you a raspberry gin fizz and you settled yourself into position, nursing the drink and observing the crowd.

“A-am I clear?” Rick asked and you twitched slightly, still not used to wearing a wire. 

“Nobody’s up there,” you mumbled, slightly worried that you were speaking too softly for the earpiece to pick up. Your fears were unfounded.

“Good to go.” One of them said, you assumed it was your Rick. 

You could hear them relaying information to each other in a form of code. As Ricks and Mortys bobbed and weaved around, you did your best to try to focus on the citadel militia. 

Everything seemed to be going according to plan until a Secret Service Rick put his hand up to his ear and nodded at a nearby Militia Morty. 

“Rick…Ricks? We may have a situation.”

“Co-uurp-py.” 

“Milita forces potentially incoming.”

“Shit where are they?”

“Still on the ground floor, but they may be alerting some stationed up higher.”

“Rick, how’s it going up there?”

G-163’s voice rattled through your ear. “N-not good. There’s nothing here, have we been set up?”

Your Rick cursed. “Get out of there now. Break a window if you have to, just-just run. (Y/n) start moving towards the back. Th-there’s a courtyard that we can blast through if necessary.” 

Without saying anything you began to push through the crowd, keeping your eye on the militia Ricks scatted throughout the revelry. You managed to squeeze past a couple of waiter Mortys by buzzing and fanning yourself as if you were feeling faint. 

“Terribly sorry, I think I just need some fresh air.” You said as you bumped into one. He spilled a small blue shot glass of liquid on you. You kept moving, ignoring his cries of “H-hey, wait!” 

Finally you burst out into the courtyard. The stars twinkled above you, and everything was lit with old fashioned gas lamps. The scene felt like a fairy tale. From within alcoves and behind particularly full bushes came the unmistakable noise of sex. Apparently, this was where Ricks came to have a good time. You slowed down, pretending to merely be strolling, instead of running for your life. As you paused to examine a bush shaped like a Morty's head, you realized you were feeling like you had a low grade flu.

Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Flushes of heat traveled from your head to your toes, interspersed with a horrible tingling sensation. 

You shuffled behind a giant UFO shaped topiary to try to catch your breath. You collapsed on the ground, draping your arms around yourself to try and stop your shivering. 

“Oh, no.” You breathed. You could see splotches of your natural skin color coming through the blue. “No, no no.”

Had it been five hours? It couldn’t be, could it? This fever was making it hard to think, you just wanted to sleep? No. Not sleep, something else. Your dress suddenly felt incredibly constraining. 

The muffled moans and giggles coming from a nearby bench stopped you in your tracks. You could feel the heat in your body getting worse. You peeked around the bush, the heat in your face threatening to set the plant on fire.

Apparently two Ricks had gotten bored of the party and decided to have their own. The voracious kissing and fumbling with buttons strongly reminded you of certain shitty college parties. 

Speaking of which, your mind wasn’t exactly functioning well. A heat began to build in your lower belly, and you hid back behind the bush with your hands pressed in front of your mouth. The sounds of the Ricks only got louder and harder to ignore. 

Your entire body shuddered and your hands crept lower down. Would it really be so bad? To have a little time to yourself... not like anyone out here was holding back…

In the haze of heat and want you almost missed the sound of someone running through the topiary. 

“Geez guys, l-like get an actual room or something.” 

The amount of effort it took you to lift your head would have been concerning under normal circumstances. “Rick?” You asked weakly. 

“(Y/n)?! W-why the fuck didn’t you respond on-on the comms? We’ve been looking for you for 20 minutes.” 

“Rick?” You mumbled, his voice sending another wave of heat straight to your core.

Rick took in your full form, your two (e/c) eyes were back and full of tears. The blue was rapidly fading from your skin and hair. A thin layer of sweat covered your whole body and you trembled uncontrollably. Hearing Rick’s voice through your earpiece reduced you to jelly.

“Mother fucker.” He swore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure everyone knows where this is going! It gets smutty from here on out, so be aware.


	5. (You're) Poison, running through my veins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, this is where the smut really kicks off. Obvious warnings for sex pollen esque situations and the resulting dub-con 
> 
> Please enjoy!

“Shit, shit, shit. Rick, do you have a car ready for us?” 

G-163’s voice rattled through your skull, worsening the headache. “Y-yeah. A couple blocks out of here so that we can..can avoid the citadel police.”

“Ugh fine.” Your Rick pinched his nose. “That’ll have to work.”

He roughly grabbed your arm and yanked you to your feet. The feeling of contact was so intense it made you moan outright. 

“Ok. Look, we just have to make it out of here without you creaming yourself. Can you hand that?” Rick’s frustration was palpable. 

You, on the other hand were completely out of it. His irritation seemed like the funniest thing in the world.

“Damnit (Y/n)!” He growled and slapped you. You stopped giggling, startled by the flash of heat traveling down to your core. 

“Do it again?” You asked, staring at him with wide eyes.

He muttered curses under his breath and dragged you behind him. You stumbled and lagged, all your focus on the searing heat of his hand on your arm. 

You guys weren’t walking toward the party, Rick seemed aware that he couldn’t sneak you out that way. You were too far gone. He was basically supporting you with one arm as your feet did their best to keep you upright on wobbling knees. 

Fortunately you weren’t the only one. Lots of guests seemed to have descended into lust. An alien groped your ass and Rick had to physically restrain you from following them into the darkened recesses of the garden. Finally, you reached the perimeter of the courtyard. Rick scanned the wall looking for the closest link to the outside of the complex. 

You concentrated on groping him.

“Would you fucking mind?” He said through clenched teeth. You retrieved the hand that had been creeping towards his waistband, giggling flirtatiously as you brushed his abdomen with your fingers. 

“I’ve seen enough.” He said pulling out his laser. He excised a hole large enough for you both to squeeze through in the wall of the nearest building. He shoved you through, ignoring how you wiggled your hips invitingly. 

It was a tight fight, and being pressed up against Rick didn’t help. You couldn’t help but grind against him, feeling his length through his dress pants.

“(Y/n) I swear to god I will dick you down if you still want me to later, but right now we need to get moving.”

You fought with your foggy mind to try and pull yourself together. The heat of Rick’s body as you both inched through the inner structure was threatening to make you completely short circuit. Finally, Rick reached over your head and sliced a hole, releasing you both into the cool night air. You groaned, as you slid out into the street and collapsed onto the ground. Without hesitation. Rick tossed you over his shoulder and moved as quickly as he could without attracting attention.

“But..wait..am heavy.” You forced out through sluggish lips. 

“I-I’m literally so augmented that I barely register as human. I could carry a car if I have five minutes to prepare. Shut the fuck up and concentrate on not humping me in public like a dog in heat.”

“Sure thing.” You slurred out. Almost without thinking your hand started to make its way down to Rick’s ass, or at least made an honest attempt. He was very tall. You started to wriggle a bit to help you close the distance, but he smacked you on the bum.

“I said behave. We’re almost there.” 

You whined and he crossed the last few feet to the car with long purposeful strides.

“What the hell is going on?” Rick G-163 asked. Rick didn’t say anything, dumping you in the backseat and ordering him to drive.

G-163 didn’t argue. He floored it, steering the car in unpredictable turns and stops to throw off any potential tails. 

Meanwhile, your Rick was trying to fend you off while demanding an explanation from the other Rick. 

“We weren’t set up.” G-163 explained. Someone else got there first. I scanned the area, there were signs that it had been stolen pretty much as soon as the drop was made.

“Other Ricks?”

“Not professional enough. I’ll upload the evidence when we get back to the house.”

“Hey, hey guys.” You were seeing double…four Ricks in total. Four Ricks was a good number. “Wanna…wanna play a game? Ouch!"

“We’re a little busy at the moment, (Y/n).” Rick was analyzing the blood sample he’d taken from your inner arm. “Almost there.…got it!”

G-163 glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “I-I’m guessing this isn’t because (Y/n) had a little too much to drink.”

“N-euurp-op.” Rick belched. “It's that freaky aphrodisiac from Diquigon Beta.”

“Diquigon Beta? Oh shit, isn’t that the Juoloig plant stuff?”

“Yup.” Rick said, trying to use one long leg to keep you on the other side of the van. “Its definitely interacting with that Ci-cicada crap.” 

“Antidote?”

“Working on it.”

You were in the process of stroking Rick’s calf, letting your fingers creep up towards his thigh. He swatted at you periodically, but couldn’t hide his growing bulge.

“Look, not that I want to give away our safe-house or whatever, but can we hurry it up? I feel like a hot girl at a concert.”

“Rodger dodger.” Rick G-163 gave one last sweep of the area before settling into the drive back. 

Rick finally had enough. He slammed you back into a seat and held you there. 

“Stop. Fucking. Doing that.” You were only momentarily cowed, but he took advantage of the reprieve to belt you in and handcuff you for good measure. 

It really was doing more harm than good. The thought of Rick touching you while you were temporarily unable to resist was intoxicating. The fantasy was overwhelming to the point you got lost in it. The feeling of being teased was unbearable. Both Ricks were trying their best to ignore the quiet whimpers you made. The raw need threaded through them was enough to make both Ricks debate how dangerous getting caught with their pants down really would be. 

“How far are we?” Rick asked, clenching his jaw so hard it popped. Rick G-163 was trying to adjust himself while keeping his eyes on the road.

“Not far.”

Your chest was heaving, gasping in as much air as you could. Your Rick noticed something was wrong. 

“G-163, you need to go faster.”

“We’re here.” G-163 unbuckled himself and ran over to help Rick wrangle you. You were almost catatonic with want. They got you into the house as quickly as possible, laying you on the bed. 

Rick raked his hands through his wiry blue hair. “I don’t think I have time to rig up an antidote, I think we gotta flush this out the old fashioned way.”

“Your dimension, your call.” G-163 said bluntly. “I-I gotta go get in touch with my guy. I’m sure the entire militia knows that someone blasted their way out of the complex thanks to you assholes.”

He strode out the door and melted into the night. Rick turned to look at you.

You were still cuffed, lying on the bed, chest moving rapidly and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Alright (Y/n), I’m going to tell you something. Do you understand?”

Your eyes were glassy but you nodded. 

“I’m going to have to flush out the toxins by fucking you.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You began straining at the cuffs and he blew out a deep breath and began to undress. 

“I hope you can handle it, (Y/n). I’m not going to go easy on you.”

With that he finished stripping and left his clothes on the floor in a heap. With practiced hands he keyed in the code and released your cuffs.

The minute you felt it release, you leapt on him knocking him back. His look of surprised was quickly replaced by a twinge of irritation.

“Uh -un I don’t play like that.” Quickly he threaded the cuffs through the headboard and secured your arms around your head. 

“Rick…hurry UP!” You begged, feeling the wetness between your legs. He backhanded you.

“Calm y-your tits. This is payback for you being a pain in my ass the entire night.”

He flipped open a butterfly knife and even in your inebriated state you knew to be still. Without a word, he slit your dress open from the bodice to your knees, ripping it away from your form. You whimpered as you felt the tip of the knife trace down your now exposed form.

“Y-you just realized you let the most unstable man in the universe handcuff you to the bed? That wasn’t very smart.”

Through a dry throat you tried to force out, “I—I’m”

He shushed you, holding a finger to your mouth while moving the knife down to your lower belly. 

“I wouldn’t distract me right now.”

Without ceremony, he sliced the waistband of the panties you wore and you were fully exposed to him. He smiled, running a long finger down your slit.

“I-I’m not surprised you’re ready for it. Th-that stuff you got on you? It’s designed to completely high jack your pleasure centers. Drop all inhibitions, mindless animal style. ” He slipped two fingers into you and you keened. You could feel everything in almost excruciating detail. He moved them and you felt him press against your walls. You almost came right there, but his next sentence chilled you to the bone.

“You’re lucky it didn’t land on me.”

With that he removed the digits and you gasped. He gave you a smirk and plunged into the hilt.

You saw stars. He laughed outright and started thrusting, each movement rattling the bed. 

“Moan for me baby, I wanna hear you.” 

You did, the feeling of fullness after needing it for so long was almost too much to bear. Rick did not hold back, he left livid suck marks on your breasts, nails digging into your full backside. Each whimper only served to make him more frenetic and he slammed into you. Tears leaked from your eyes, you were one giant raw nerve, laid bare for Rick to play with. He kept you guessing, never settling into a rhythm. One minute he was bruisingly quick, the next withdrawing almost all the way out and then reburying himself in your core with agonizing slowness. He held you right at the edge, you knew that a single touch of your clit would send you spiraling over the edge into orgasm. You tried to communicate this to Rick, but he ignored you. Instead, he kept you on the knife’s edge. You felt like you were losing your mind. 

“”Rick PLEASE.” You said, frustrating and lust mingling. Rick was unimpressed.

“Juuuust for that I’m not going to let you cum for another 5 minutes. Don’t question me.”

You let your head drop back. You were pretty sure you were dying at one point and now he doesn’t want to let you finish? That asshole.

Rick leaned over you, still thrusting into you consistently. Bringing his lips to your throat he sucked on the delicate skin while pinching your nipple, you screamed. You squirmed around in an attempt to gain some relief, but Rick held you fast. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Wait.”

You were so turned on that it actually hurt. Your muscles were tense and achey, begging for some kind of release.

“Have you learned your lesson?” Rick asked, punctuating each syllable by plunging into you roughly.

“Yes!” You chocked out, your hair matted and tangled around your face.

“Are you going to annoy me again?” 

“No!” You strained against the handcuffs.

“No, what?”

“No, Rick!” You were close to bursting into sobs of want. 

He quirked his brow but shrugged. “Close enough. Are you ready to cum on my cock?”

“Yes! Yes, Rick!” you cried out, hips jerking of their own accord. 

He reached down and with a few circles of his long fingers on your clit you came, clenching around his thick length that was still buried inside of you. He groaned and shoved his fingers in your mouth, fucking in to you at a dizzying speed before spilling his cum all down your tits and torso. 

The drug in your system amplified your orgasm to cosmic levels. You were still trying to clear your head when Rick started to wipe your body clean with the shreds of your evening gown.

He released the handcuffs, but you left them above your head. After a good once over and a smug, self satisfied smile he left the room and you could hear the sound of a shower.

You managed to shove yourself with shaking arms. You couldn’t even think about moving your lower body yet. You lay there until you could hear the shower turn off, and Rick stomping out. He didn’t come back into your room, so you forced yourself to swing your legs off the bed. 

You wrapped a blanket around yourself, and trudged towards the shower. Your Rick was nowhere to be seen, but G-163 was sitting at the rickety table fussing with the internal gadgetry of a tablet. 

You stopped and appraised each other. “What the fuck happened to you?” He asked taking in your tangled hair, smudged makeup, and traces of bodily fluids.

You glared at him then turned, trudging into the bathroom to wash the last traces of iniquity off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love a good fuck or die trope, it never fails.
> 
> Should we let G-163 join in the fun at some point? I'm still deciding....I do have a soft spot for him


	6. Shoot to Thrill

The next morning you trudged out into the living room to find Rick waggling his eyebrow at you. You gave him the finger and pulled out a mug, wincing at the bruises circling your wrists.

“Where’s G-163?” You rasped, coughing to clear your throat.

“Right here.” Rick G-163 walked out of another room accompanied by a Morty. 

“Who’s this?” The kid looked just like the rest. Nothing majorly identifying about him. He look about as happy to be there are you were. 

“Ignore her Q-50, she had a bad run in with some Lavish Blue last night.”

“D-damn really?” He said, looking more interested. “Where from?” 

“The Presidential gala.” 

The Morty let out a low whistle. “S-sounds like one of our suppliers struck gold.”

Your ears perked up, was this Morty some type of dealer? Suddenly the implications of that hit you.

“You guys sell that stuff on the street?” You could barely believe your ears. That stuff was dangerous in the wrong hands. And very fun, a voice whispered in your head.

“D-diluted.” Morty Q-50 corrected you. “Pretty heavily. Good for a buzz, but not quite as…e-effective.”

You hobbled back to the sofas and sat down. Rick reached for your thigh but you smacked his hand away. His laughter only made you scowl at your coffee. G-163 handed over a jagged shard of dark metal. You tilted your head, a fragment of some sort of device?

“So what do you think Mo-orty?” Rick asked, cocking his brow. “Recognize the handiwork?”

Morty leaned back. D-doesn’t seem high enough quality to be Rick level, but definitely not your average Mortytown gang. I-I'd say just under off-planet smuggling but above ground level distribution. 

“S-o mo-EUURP-re of middleman sort of situation?” G-163 was lost in thought, running through a mental map of the Citadel’s underworld. 

“Y-yup.” Morty flipped the metal chunk. “I-I don’t recognize the symbol. M-must be a new group.”

Rick G-163 groaned, sagging forward. “God, don’t tell me we’re going to have to pay Miami a visit.” 

Rick’s eyes went wide. “Th-the last time I partied with that guy I-I didn’t wake up for a week.” 

You took another sip of your coffee, mulling the new information over in your head. You wanted to ask what the big deal about this particular shipment was, but you knew better than to ask with an outsider listening in. 

G-163 stared moodily at the wall. “Y-you sure they haven’t sold it yet?”

“We’d know.” Rick said, brow furrowed. There’s n-no way they could -euurp- get that off planet without alerting the militia. This place is locked down tighter than a spinster’s—“

“ALRight.” You cut in, frowning at the older man. “What are you going to do with this stuff?”

Morty Q-50’s practiced expression of disinterest was fooling nobody. G-163 gave you a death glare. “N-none of your fucking beeswax.”

“Fine.” You said, matching his expression. Morty deflated slightly and you felt a bit embarrassed by making such a rookie mistake. 

Rick G-163 and Morty talked a bit more about logistics and questionable business endeavors, but the endless discussion of intricate rivalries, debts, and treaties began to wear on you. Just as you were beginning to drop off, coffee be damned, you felt a hand clasp your shoulder.

“Hey, come with me.” 

You looked up into Rick’s neutral face, a flash of irritation prickling under your skin.

“I’m not feeling especially horny right now, Rick.”

You were rewarded with an eye roll. “Not that, genius, I’m teaching you how to shoot.”

***

“Are you sure it’s ok to leave Rick alone with that Morty? Isn’t what they’re talking about pretty important?”

“I’m an actual genius. If I’m doing something its usually for a good reason. The reverse applies.”

You stumbled over a rock, but quickly regained your footing. “How far out are you planning on making us trek, Rick? I’m still sore from your little stunt last night.”

Rick shot you a side eye. “Y-euurp-you seemed to enjoy it.”

You couldn’t come up with a rebuttal, instead choosing to mutter a sullen ‘whatever’ and continue picking your way around the tangled weeds of the undeveloped land. After a few minutes of silence, you realized the surrounding ruins were actually the remains of buildings. All of them were built in the style of the modern citadel, you brushed aside a layer of dirt and saw a stylized ‘R’.

“Rick…what happened here?” You asked, looking at the destruction surrounding you. 

“The Citadel got what was coming to it.” He said bluntly, not even turning to face you. “Don’t mess with a Rick.”

“Noted…” you trailed off. Your hand felt powdery and dry. You saw something white and smooth glinting at you. Without thinking, you reached over and plucked it out. A human skull, missing its lower mandible. You smoothed your hand over the back feeling the pronounced ridge.

“This is a Rick skull, isn’t it?” You asked staring at the signs of wear around the teeth and cheek bones. You’d taken a bio-anth class in college, fascinated by the human body. Rick took a swig from his flask.

“Yup. There’ll be tons out here. Mortys too.”

“That’s horrible!” 

“That’s life. Welcome to the universe—its a cold, unfeeling place.”

You nestled the skull back into the ground where you found it. The landscape suddenly looked much hollower. The sighing breeze tugged at the existential fear that threatened to bubble out of your chest. Before you could give voice to your anxieties, Rick pressed his laser gun into your hands. 

“Shooting is simple. Point the gun and don’t let your hands shake.” 

You were already failing that step. Your sweaty palms made it hard to grip the smooth surface. You angled your body aiming for the bottle he directed you to, and pulled the trigger. You missed by a mile.

“Wrong!” You jumped a little, but Rick was already on you, correcting your stance with his hands. He gently adjusted your hips. “W-when you’re just starting out, y-you gotta put your legs shoulder length apart, dominant leg forward. Now.”

You tried again, you still missed, but by inches, rather than feet. 

“Ok, now. R-remember to hold onto it as hard as you can. Stare down the sights and pull!”

You clipped the bottle, but surge of triumph you felt was so great that it made you cheer. Rick raised his brow, but gave you a small smile. 

“N-not a bad start, (Y/n). Try again.”

You took a breath, aimed and fired. No dice. Rick ordered you to try again, and again and again. After what felt like hours your hand was cramped and spasming. Your legs were stiff, and even your eyes ached from staring down the barrel. But, you were hitting the target marginally more often than not.

Rick laughed and offered you a pull from his flask. You held the cold metal to your lips, sucked in a breath and drank. The concoction still left you sputtering. 

“That is disgusting.” You said, swallowing your nausea as best as you could.

“That,” Rick said before drinking deeply. “Th-that is the most ethanol the human body can take at one time.”

You believed him, your head was already spinning. You shook off his offer of another sip, choosing to concentrate on the walk back. 

“So.” He started, wiping the excess alcohol off his lip. “D-doing anything tonight.”

You paused to stare at him incredulously. “Are you hitting on me?” 

“W-why? Is it working?”

You shook your head in exasperation. “Unbelievable.”

“L-last night was fun. Y-you’re sexy, what’s not to enjoy?”

That actually pulled you up short. “I was so turned on I couldn’t see straight! It wasn't anywhere close to my best effort.” You said indignantly. “I can’t believe you’re assuming that’s the best I can do!”

“Whoa, whoa!” Rick threw up his hands. “I didn’t say that. In any case,” he waggled his brow for effect, “want to prove that to me?”

You flushed, but did your best to hide it. You preferred instead to concentrate on picking your way through the shrubbery. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.” 

Rick laughed, and it called an imagine of Red Riding Hood’s wolf to your mind, toothy and hungry. 

“I’ve always liked a challenge.” He rasped.

****  
Morty Q-50 had disappeared back into the shadows when you arrived. G-163 was waiting at the door, sipping from a beer. The pile of bottles littered around him suggested he’d been at it for a while. 

“W-what’s going on?” Rick asked. 

“M-morty thinks it-EUURrp- might be connected to Zeta.” G-163 belched.

“Zeta? He was killed when the citadel fell.” You could see the gears whirring behind your Rick’s eyes. 

“Cloning-cloning exists.” G-163’s face was expressionless besides a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Plus y-you know the roots ran deep.”

“Who…who’s Zeta?” You asked in a small voice. You really hoped the Ricks didn’t start taking their obvious anger out on you. 

“Zeta Alpha.” Rick said without looking up from his tablet. “A-a former member of the old Council and—“

Rick G-163 cut him off. “The Rick in charge of interrogation.”

The lighting threw the marks on his skin into sharp relief. He knew what you were thinking, rubbing his hands over his face almost unconsciously.

“T-they were always good at brutality. Heal-heal your prisoner well enough to s-start over the next day. Y-you could scoop out someone’s intestines and put them back, good as new, ready to be taken out t-tomorrow.” 

You felt your stomach flip. Torture, plain and simple. Your mind unwillingly flashed back to your Rick holding the butterfly knife, teasing you with its sharp edge. Ricks were the same man, the same genius….the same potential for violence…

Your mouth went dry, eyes flickering to your dimension’s iteration. He wasn’t paying attention to you, tapping away and fiddling with a small device. G-163 was retrieving another bottle, the yeasty smell wasn’t helping your growing nausea. 

With a colossal effort you shook your brain away from that thought. You looked from Rick to Rick.

“What’s the next step then?” 

Your Rick answered, “We pay a visit to Miami. He owes me a favor, and he’s got connections to everyone who’s anyone in the game.”

“Miami? Like Florida?” You were nonplussed. 

Rick was unimpressed. “Duh. Florida exists in most of the central finite curve. Miami Rick is from a dimension where Florida became the most powerful nation in the world and Miami is the capital!”

You rolled that thought around in your brain and decided not to question it. You didn’t want to know. “So how come he lives on the Citadel?”

Rick snorted. “He doesn’t ‘live here’.” Even his air quotes dripped irritation. “He owns a few clubs here. He’s cool, he can come and go as he pleases.”

“Being cool is enough to get you a free pass on and off the Citadel.” You said, the insanity was starting to get to you. 

Rick ignored you. “He *also* happens to have a finger in most of the pies. H-he’s not a smuggler—too much effort. He just helps them out…for a fee.”

The room was silent, except for frenetic tapping and drunken belches. You sat in silence, staring at the wall and processing. 

You knew you should tell them to send you home. This was reaching levels so far beyond the pale. The gala had been insane enough, but this? This was reaching intergalactic cartel levels of danger. Even past that actually, this was reaching shadow government conspiracy. You were up against individuals who had already proven they had no qualms when it came to hurting people. 

You should be begging, screaming, even reporting them to citadel officials. Anything to get you away from here, away from the Smiths, away from this terrifying world you had discovered. You could go home, go to sleep and tell yourself this was all just a bad dream brought on by food poisoning and isolation.

So why didn’t you?

There was an indisputable stubbornness in you. The kind that made you grit your teeth, dig your heels in, and finish what you started. You would spend the rest of your life knowing that you turned your back on a whole different universe than the one you were born into. A universe people spent their whole lives without even knowing existed. 

On a much less abstract level, there was something else holding you fast. You could feel Rick’s eyes burning into you, devouring the contours of your face. 

You weren’t entirely sure he would let you leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my little Annie Oakleys! 
> 
> A bit of a calmer chapter today, but that's ok. I've got what I hope will be fun stuff lined up.
> 
> How could we take a trip into the Citadel of Ricks without the Miamis making an appearance?! I hold a deep abiding love for them.


	7. You Spin Me Round

“I know how to do my makeup when I don’t have a cicada face! Stop being a dick!” Rick was seriously starting to piss you off. You could feel him reveling in pushing your buttons. 

He was such a childish, emotionally stunted, immature, son of a fucking bitch. You shouldered past him, seething. You had to hand it to the man, he made denying him something a chore. 

You slammed your door. Leaning against it and taking a deep breath. In hindsight, calling him a 'thirsty bitch' and a 'man whore' in the same sentence was a lot like poking a very angry bear. In your defense, he was lurking around every corner, practically salivating at the thought of getting you alone. 

Who were you kidding. This was about your own pride, which you would protect vehemently! An orgasm wasn’t anything special, you could supply that yourself! You could definitely replicate that same feeling of titillating helplessness, searing intensity, and rush of adrenaline... You pushed that thought away. You were not about to be undone by some pushy old horn-dog, even if he is the smartest man in multiple universes. 

Oh boy, could you tell. On the rare occasion when he focused on you entirely it was thrilling. All of that brain power zeroed in felt like being pierced and examined like a butterfly on display.

Wasn’t that imagery phallic...

You threw the door back open, screaming “YOU GUYS BETTER BE READY AND IN THE KITCHEN BY 9PM FOR PRES.” You quickly shut it before your Rick could come slinking in. 

Ok. Cool, that’s cool, you thought to yourself. We’re just going to pick a sexy outfit and then get a little drunk, but not too messy until we get to a club where we can get shit faced. Just like being at college…don’t think about the fact that we’re about to get involved with smugglers and potentially trained sadists. Don’t think about meeting a Rick that apparently gets so fucked up that other Ricks fear partying with him. We’re just going to get dressed up, make out with some randoms, and then fall asleep in our clothes. 

You did not believe yourself. You were reasonably certain that Rick would shoot anyone you kissed through the temple. 

That wasn’t your problem. You rationalized, dabbing on foundation. You had bigger problems, like staying alive. 

You were struck by a sudden feeling of nostalgia as you applied your liner, it really was like being back home. You could almost pretend that you were getting ready for a normal night out.

Until someone banged on your door, making you jump and smear your mascara. You cursed and wiped it off as Rick shouted, “Hurry up (Y/n), its almost 8:15 wouldn’t want to be late for our made up meeting time. It’s not like we-EUUrp-live in the same house or anything.”

You took a deep gulp of air and let it out slowly. You marched to the closet and searched through the clothes you’d ordered from a humanoid alien site. The courier flap that had delivered them was…unsettling. 

You settled on a simple deep red dress. The satin fabric wrapped your body hugging your curves. You noted with satisfaction that the sweetheart neckline included spaghetti straps. Accidentally flashing a tit to a room full of inebriated Ricks was not high on your priority list. 

You settled on a pair of black platform heels that felt like balancing on stilts. At least your bum looked amazing in them. 

You fluffed your (h/l) (h/c) hair in the mirror and decided it was good enough to party with self purported sociopaths. 

You went straight to the kitchen to mix up the strongest drink you could stomach. Both of the Ricks wolf whistled at you and you struck a pose. 

“How do I look?” You pouted, twisting to show off your outfit. 

Your Rick’s smile was positively predatory. You felt some of the bravado fade. You busied yours hands with making your (f/cocktail). 

Rick G-163 was lost in thought. He was more fidgety than usual, whatever he was building looked dangerous. You sipped your drink and coughed. You definitely underestimated the amount of booze you’d added. 

“G-go easy on it.” Rick advised, still eyeing you. “I-I don’t want to have to carry you home again.”

The ‘again’ sent a flush to your face and a spark to your core. You knew you couldn’t hide it from Rick, his head tilted slightly, cataloging your reaction. 

You were majorly outclassed in every conceivable way. 

Rick G-163 tossed the object he’d been working on to you. You barely managed to snag it. After you thanked whatever god was listening that you hadn’t dropped the damn thing and broken it, you took a look. 

It was a slim laser pistol, sized perfectly to fit snugly into your hand. You tested your grip, squeezing it tightly and sighting down the barrel. 

G-163 handed you a scrap of fabric. “Tha-euurp-t there is a garter holster. Put it on, slip the gun in, and let me see. 

You did as you were told. You could tell an object was strapped to your leg if you squinted, but nothing that could be detected from the back of a galloping horse.

Or a dark, smoky club. 

G-163 seemed satisfied with his handiwork. “This is just a precaution, but don’t be afraid to use it if things get dicey.”

You weren’t sure if it made you feel significantly safer. “They say that carrying a weapon means that people can take it and use it on you.”

Your Rick came up behind you, placing one hand on your shoulder and using the other to jiggle the gun. He was testing the security of the garter.

“So don’t let them take it from you.”

The coolness that replaced the heat of his body sent a shiver down your spine. Both Ricks had ditched the lab coats, citing that Miami didn’t like work attire at his bacchanals. 

While most Ricks seemed to favor long sleeves, G-163 opted for a turtleneck. You wondered about the extent of the damage he was covering up, then realized you probably didn’t want to know. 

You were feeling a lovely tipsy-verging-on-drunk, the perfect state to be in at a nightclub. Unfortunately, you had to content yourself with being crammed in the back with both Ricks. Your driver was a Morty, which you realized and without thinking blurted out, “How did you manage to get a license?”

His glance at you in the rearview mirror was distinctly unimpressed. “The same way everyone does, ma’am.”

You stayed quiet after that. 

You could hear the club before you saw it. A deep thumping bass rattled your ribcage, interspersed with the distinct sounds of synthesizer music. 

Neon flashing lights and the hum of the crowd in the smoking area added to the general chaos. You spared a second to be deeply grateful you didn’t have to come to this place as a bug. 

“E-euurp-everyone out.” Rick ordered, and the three of you piled out. G-163 paid the Cab Driver Morty, which Rick chatted with the Bouncer Rick, hoping that you could bypass the line. 

You didn’t need to worry. Like magic, a Rick you could only assume was Miami appeared and threw an arm around your Rick’s shoulders. They laughed and spoke for a minute before you were gestured in. 

If Miami Rick’s bubblegum pink jacket and gradient sunglasses were out there, it was nothing compared to his Morty who looked like every single 80s stereotype had been tossed into a blender and then baked in the Florida sun. You realized you’d seen him before.

“You were at the Gala!” You exclaimed. The Morty turned to look at you, popping his bright red lollipop out of his mouth. 

“How did you know?” He was significantly more confident than his other iterations with barely a hint of the expected stutter. 

You, on the other hand, just realized you fucked up.

“Uh…I saw you on the tv coverage?” You cringed slightly, but kept your poise.

“Right.” He said, still frowning. He walked over to his Rick, tugging his arm. You winced when Miami Morty whispered something and gestured at you. When Miami Rick glanced over you traced the contour of the gun strapped to your leg. Get them before they can get you, right?

G-163’s hand circled your wrist, gently moving it back to your side. 

“Relax.” He murmured, releasing you. You sagged for a minute and straightened up. Your Rick was at the bar…typical. 

You flounced over and glared at him. “The gentlemanly thing to do would have been to offer to buy me a drink.”

He rolled his eyes and gulped down his shot. “ One-euurp-I’m not a gentleman. Two,” He gestured broadly at the tray of tequila slammers. “help yourself.”

You shrugged. Why the hell not? May as well use this as a chance to blow off some steam. 

****

You quickly were approaching blackout drunkenness. You could only remember snatches of memories, including watching Miami, G-163, and your Rick snort lines of some alien power. You dimly remembered attempting to join in, but you were too drunk to properly manage. You had some mortifying memories of snuggling into your Rick AND G-163, much to Miami Rick’s amusement. You vaguely remembered him saying something about you being a tease, then leaning in for a kiss. Hey, they’re all Ricks, basically the same person! 

It wasn’t an amazing justification. 

Something was niggling at you, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. The room was swirling and dipping, you hoped it would stop soon.

Then it clicked. 

They were playing 80s music. 

With a speed and grace that should have been impossible in your extremely inebriated condition, you made it onto the dance floor. Ricks, Mortys, other aliens, all writhed and swayed to the beat. You could feel the vibrations through your feet and up to your chest. You could see Miami Morty dancing on a small stage platform, of course he was a Go-Go boy. 

You were bouncing and swaying to the music, swiveling your hips as you screamed along to the music.

**It was the heat of the moment! Telling me what my heart meant! The heat of the moment shone in your eyes!**

“Y-your music taste is-euurp-truly awful.” A voice rumbled in your ear. A Rick, your Rick? Maybe. Who knows. Who cares?

Whoever it was was pressed against your backside, swaying and moving right with you. You lost yourself in the feeling.

**Is this really love or just a game? Tell it to my heart**

**I can feel my body rock every time you call my name.**

You’d turned to face this Rick, tossing your arms around his neck and laying your cheek on his chest. You could feel the bass through his bones. 

At some point you’d gone and vomited in the bathroom. Immediately after, Miami Morty had taken you to the bar to get another drink. Some fruity concoction that had you audibly moaning at the sugary taste. 

Depeche Mode said it better than you were capable of at the moment. 

**And I just can't get enough. And I just can't get enough!**

You were definitely falling asleep on your feet by the time you wobbled to a table. You were seconds from collapse when Miami Rick reappeared and fed you some kind of some kind of alien upper. It took about 30 minutes to hit, but you could have sworn you’d gotten a full 9 hours of sleep.

Right in time for Madonna’s Material Girl. You tried to stand, but someone pulled you back down. Another Rick? You couldn’t tell how many of them there were. He pulled you into a bruising kiss that you sloppily returned. 

When the chorus hit you shoved him away and staggered back to the dance floor. Really, it was only the combined mass of people that kept you upright. 

A Rick in a turtleneck was talking to the pink one. Maybe multiple turtleneck Ricks. You were too strung out to care. A group of Mortys opened up and you joined them, laughing and lip-syncing. 

Someone brushed your thigh, snaking up underneath your hemline and it startled you. You were supposed to be doing something, protecting something? You couldn’t tell. 

**I was hungry for love, I was hungry for fun. I was hunting you down, and I was the bait…**

The music was starting to seriously disorient you. You felt your heart rate pick up and you spun, looking for an exit. The smoking area, some fresh air…hopefully.

A warm hand reached out and you grasped it, following blindly.

**Touch me, touch me now...Touch me, touch me now…**

You were led into a mercifully quiet room and placed into a chair. Before you could close your eyes a finger entered your mouth, rubbing something chalky onto your gums. The shock hit your bloodstream and you managed to sit upright, the fog slowly clearing from your brain.

You were staring down the barrel of a gun. No, not a random gun, but your gun. The one you had strapped to your thigh. You reached down and felt for it, but Miami Morty just laughed.

“Ok. Start talking. Tell me what you’re up to, or I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, cliff hanger! But more importantly, 80s music is awesome and I would kill to go to an 80s night at a club ;-; 
> 
> Living through a pandemonium sucks.
> 
> The songs included in this are as follows:  
> Heat of the moment-Asia (NSP has a great cover too)  
> Tell it to my heart-Taylor Duane  
> Just can't get enough-Depeche Mode  
> Material girl-Madonna  
> Touch me (I want your body) -Samantha Fox
> 
> Not used, but honorable mention: Destroyer by the Kinks. Really gives off a young Rick vibe.
> 
> Also pres=pre gaming. I go to school in the UK despite not being from there, so I've picked up some of their slang. I don't actually know what the US equivalent is.


	8. Up and out

You struggled to keep your voice level. “Where are my Ricks?”

“Y-y-you think that matters now?” Miami Morty’s composure was slipping. You still weren’t sure what had sparked this. “J-just tell me!”

“Did your Rick put you up to this?” You narrowed your eyes, trying to pick up on anything that could help you get out of this situation. 

“That isn’t the question!” Morty was breathing rapidly, but his grip on your gun never wavered. 

“Ok, ok.” You said, trying to restore calm. “I’ll talk.”

When you didn’t elaborate, Morty gesticulated with the gun. 

Your mouth was suddenly dry. “Uhhh, we: me and ….um Rick went to the Gala….because…he got invited, but….I was …shy?” 

“You were shy.” Miami Morty said, raising one plucked eyebrow. You were stalling as hard as you could. 

“Yes. I was shy. So….I dressed up as an alien?” 

“Uh huh.”

You winced and tried to think fast. “That’s why you didn’t see me! But…um I saw you talking to that green Morty.” 

Miami Morty made a face, and you suddenly realized he wasn’t reacting to you.

“Are you taking orders from your Rick?” You pressed again, hoping that at least one of your Ricks had been able to keep their wits about them. 

“Shut up!” Morty ordered. You swallowed, feeling the urge to be sick rising. Morty turned away from you, blond hair concealing his face. 

There was your chance. You leapt onto his back reaching for the gun. Luckily, most Mortys were short, slim kids. Miami Morty went down pretty much instantly. Regardless, he packed a punch, catching you in the ribs and you groaned, but kept scrabbling for the laser. 

You both froze at the muffled sounds of yelling and shooting. Someone was yelling orders, while moans of pain bounced off the walls. 

“Rick!” The Morty under you shoved you off, dropping the gun and running for the door. You scooped it off the ground, wishing the weight of it in your hand was more comforting. You followed Morty on legs that felt like rubber. Even though he was obviously more worldly than you, you felt a sense of responsibility. He was 14 for Christ’s sake. 

Luckily he was smart enough, even while distressed, not to run headlong into a gun fight. You caught up to him inching down the hallway. 

“Morty,” you started, gripping the gun, “Maybe we should go find a safe place to hide and wait for the Ricks to find us.”

The look he shot you was downright venomous. “I-If you’re too pussy to help then..then fine! C-crawl in a vent. I’m not going to leave Rick!”

You swore under your breath but keep moving, trailing after the teen. You weren’t encountering a single soul in the building and it was making you incredibly nervous. 

“Where is everyone?” You hissed, feeling the tension ramp up.

“R-right behind you.” Something sharp pressed against your lower back. 

On instinct you turned, raising the gun. The scene slowed and stuttered, dreamlike. Before you even realized what was happening the Rick was falling backwards with a glowing hole punched straight through his forehead. 

The body fell and you felt the bottom drop out of your world. Your stomach heaved, but before you could vomit Morty had yanked you into a hidden room and shot the control panel, jamming it. 

“Th-that might hold them for a bit.” He paced, running his hands through his long hair. 

“There were more?” You asked, still staring at your hands. They seemed very far away. 

“About seven. All in balaclavas.” Morty was typing frantically on a hot pink cell phone. 

“Seven?” You asked, feeling very warm. You wanted to walk in circles to work off the adrenaline run but you 

“Yes, seven.” Miami Morty was rapidly losing patience. “All armed to the teeth. S-so stop having a pity party! They would have killed us!”

You didn’t say anything, concentrating on your breathing. In for 4, hold for 2, out for 4, hold for 2. Slowly you started to come back to yourself. 

“Finally!” Morty exclaimed as his phone started to buzz. He held it up to his ear. “Rick! W-what the hell is going on?”

Even from where you were, you could hear the sounds of a fight. Miami Rick yelled “Get to the car and wait for us!” then hung up. Morty stared at his phone, hollow eyed.

“Where’s the car?” You asked, trying to take charge. Morty shook himself and gestured to a blank stretch of wall. 

“There’s a slide right there. W-we’ll get to the garage a-and wait for them there.” 

Without waiting for you to fully digest this development, Morty placed his thumb on a previous undetectable scanner. Shortly after, an eyeball scan, and voice recognition test were carried out. Only after he had successful passed all 3 was he able to access the panel. 

“Get in.” He ordered, you frowned but did as you were told. It looked like a claustrophobic metal version of a playground tube slide. You crossed your arms over your body, as if you were going down a waterslide and leapt in. Only moments later did you realize it could be a trap. 

When you landed, you were in a concrete structure. You spotted the car in question.

“No fucking way.” You breathed. An aqua blue Chevy Bel Air was parked in the middle, its gleaming paint at odds with the dingy concrete. The boxy shape, the blunt ivory colored fins, the chrome bumper! 

You weren’t much of a car girl, but you had to admit it was beautiful. It reminded you of your Barbie sized convertible from childhood, but 10 times prettier.

“When you’ve finished jerking off over the car, y-you gotta go be ready to drive.”

You felt a cold chill run down your spine. “Morty, this is a classic car. I don’t know how to drive stick.”

He rolled his eyes. “R-Rick tampered with it. I-it’s my car, he was going to teach me to drive on it, starting with auto then manual.”

You felt your head spin. Maybe being Miami’s Rick partner wasn’t such a bad deal after all. He also seemed strangely…patient. You couldn’t imagine your dimension’s Rick letting his Morty off so easily. 

A shout interrupted your thoughts. You could see the color draining out of Morty’s face as the sounds of laser fire came closer and closer. You ran to the car, yanking the door open and adjusting your seat.

“Keys! Where are the keys.” You fumbled with the controls. Morty handed you a little keyring with the playboy logo dangling off of it. Typical. You shoved the keys into the ignition and turned.

The rumble of the engine filled the entire garage and thrummed up your spine. Miami Morty kept dialing his Rick but nothing went through. Just as you were about to let the Ricks fend for themselves and get Morty to a safe place, a laser beam shot over your head. 

“Get in the car!” Morty yelled. The Ricks were already sprinting towards you, turning only briefly to shoot back at their pursuers. You and Morty had ducked down as soon as the fight arrived, but you realized you had officially become the getaway driver.

You tugged the fabric of your dress up, slipping your gun out of the holster. “Cover me.” You ordered. Morty immediately took aim. The back of the car dipped as the Ricks jumped into the back. 

“Go (Y/n)!” A Rick screamed and you hit the gas pedal. The beast of a car jumped forward and you followed the road to what you hoped was an exit. 

You turned, tires squealing in protest as you raced towards the literal light at the end of the tunnel. From behind you, came a shriek of pain and Miami Morty screamed, “Rick!” You felt something warm sliding down your neck, but couldn’t stop. 

Morty was scrabbling at the seats, trying to reach his Rick in the back. A quick glance in the rearview mirror revealed Miami Rick slumped over, bleeding profusely. 

“Shit, shit shit.” You realized the road wasn’t a road. It was a ramp. Oh god, what were you supposed to do. You couldn’t slow down, lasers were flying, leaving burnt craters in the cement floors. 

“Rick!” You yelled through teary eyes. “What do I do?” 

Your Rick stood, to send off another round of shots. “I’m coming, (Y/n)!”

He clambered in the front of the car. Punching a few buttons bringing a glass bubble roof up. The entire car shook as stubby wings deployed. The ramp was rapidly approaching. 

“What do I do?!” You screamed. Rick placed a hand on your thigh and for once you didn’t shake it off. “Wait for it.” He commanded. “Wait for it.”

“RICK!” you shrieked, temporarily blinded by the sudden light. 

“PULL UP!” 

You yanked on the steering wheel as hard as you could, half expecting it to break off. Instead, it smoothly tilted up, and the entire Chevy Bel Air followed. 

“Oh shit!” You yelped as the skyscrapers of the Citadel bloomed into sight. 

“Just keep pulling up!” 

You did as you were told, climbing into the sky almost vertically. You could feel the car starting to slow and jerk. “We’re not going to make it.” You whispered in horror. Rick swore and pulled a small lever. 

Twin turbines roared to life and you blasted up out of the Citadel and through the artificial atmosphere into the glittering expanse of stars. 

****

The car floated listlessly in space as you tried to steady your racing heartbeat. The only sounds in the car were the occasional moans of Miami Rick as Morty and G-163 did their best to patch him back together.

You could feel the tightness of dried blood on your neck and see it splattered around the gleaming interior. Your Rick was taking deep gulps from his dented flask.

Thick clouds of gaseous materials the color of a sunset swirled around the car, ebbing and flowing. Between the gaps you could spot more stars than you had seen in your entire life. 

Planets hung like ornaments, shifting climates creating marbled designs that were as alien as they were entrancing. Something about it struck a melancholy cord deep inside you and fat tears began to drop from your (e/c) eyes. 

“Ahh spa-EUURP-ce.” Rick belched, gesturing to the sweeping expanse. “I can remember the first time I saw the galaxy. Damn near came in my pants.”

You didn’t respond, barely even paying attention. “I…I killed someone.” Your hands were going in and out of focus. Was there blood on your palms? Or was it just the ambient light? Who were you now?

Rick looked from you to your hands and back. Without saying a word he handed you his flask. You seized it and began to chug, savoring the savage burn against your inner membranes. 

“C-c’mon, (Y/n).” Rick gruffly tugged the flask away. “Y-you’re gonna make yourself sick.” 

You shook your head, soundlessly. Curling in on yourself. Rick opened his mouth as if to say something, when a noise from the back distracted both of you.

“S-stop being such a clingy little turd, M-Morty. Grandpa’s fine.”

“Aw, jeez.” Mory sagged back. “Y-you know mom and Summer would have killed me.” 

“I’ll-EUURP- talk to them.” Rick promised. “N-not your fault I live fast.”

“You’re too old to die young though.” Morty laughed as Miami Rick pretended to be offended. You felt your spirits lift a bit. Maybe some Ricks really did care about their grandkids.

A voice whispered unbidden to you: why put the kid in danger in the first place then?

G-163 broke into your thoughts. “W-who did you manage to take out?”

“I don’t know.” You said, feeling like your insides had been scooped out and replaced with lead. “He wasn’t wearing a mask though.”

G-163 pursed his lips, mentally calculating. “Shit, did you manage to kill F-390? Holy shit, (Y/n)!”

“Fucking hell!” Miami Rick piped up, laughing incredulously. “What a first kill! That guy was ruthless.”

“Who?” You asked, tiredness evident in your tone.

“Ex-citadel militia captain. One of the best…last I heard he was working as an assassin for hire.” 

You could feel bile at the back of your throat. He wasn’t a good man. You’d probably done multiple universes a favor by making sure he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

So why did you feel so terrible?

You nudged Rick and motioned to the controls. He picked up on your meaning. “Y-you don’t want to pilot any more?” 

You shook your head, choosing to crawl across the bench like front seat. For a moment you were eye level with Rick, mercifully he didn’t crack a joke. You just stared at each other. You idly wondered if he could see the emptiness you felt radiating from your soul. The intimate moment ended, and he scooted into the drivers seat. You stared out the window at the endless expanse of space. The pit that had opened in you felt like a tiny black hole, threatening to consume you entirely. Without caring what happened next you rested your head against the glass and fell asleep. 

Just before you lost consciousness, you felt Rick gently lower you down and stretch your legs over his lap. A tear traced down your cheek and you were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen...if you've never heard of a Chevrolet Bel Air 1958, google it and get back to me. We just don't make cars like we used to ;-; mostly because they're ridiculously dangerous 
> 
> Yes, I used a 1950s car. Sue me! Cars from the 80s are actually pretty ugly ngl. I was toying with using a Porsche 911 (in honor of my dad who drove one until I was born) but they're too tiny to fit 5 people. 
> 
> The bubble top roof is a thing that actually exists! Google it! They're pretty rare, but give a great sci-fi effect.
> 
> I love this ad: https://forums.aaca.org/gallery/image/13157-1958-buick-fisher-body-ad/ (Not for a chevy but the effect is similar!) 
> 
> What's your ideal car chase music? I feel like mine is the Kaiz remix of Phao-2 phut hon. (Yes, I'm basic) but like the ethereal singing voice coupled with the rhythmic beat? sign me up. It just adds to the drama


	9. Cravings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a while since Y/n has had some release, and she definitely needs it now! Warnings for light bdsm dynamics, and being blindfolded

When you first woke up, your brain thought you must be on vacation. A motel? You head throbbed as you eased yourself into a sitting position.

“Morning.” G-163 was right there, shoving a sandwich and coffee into your hands. You accepted both, feeling your stomach twist and ache. You had finally come down from the massive adrenaline spike (not to mention everything else in your system). You felt as though you could sleep for eternity. 

“A-are you finally awake?” Your Rick came stumbling into the room. You licked your chapped lips and nodded. 

“W-what’s the matter? Rick got your tongue?” He asked, surly as ever. You rolled your eyes, preferring to take dainty bites of your sandwich. 

“W-while you assholes were perfecting your Sleeping Beauty routines, I was getting us passage back onto the Citadel.” 

You choked, “Back?! We almost died!”

“Exactly.” G-163 butted in. “Nobody fucks with us and lives to tell about it.”

You had just about had it. You weren’t some sidekick that was willing to do whatever Rick wanted without question. You were a god damn grown adult who was entitled to know why she was risking her life.

“Okay, cut the bullshit.” You said, tossing your sandwich to the side. “I need to know what exactly I almost died for and why. I killed a man for you! Tell me, or I’m reporting you to the Citadel and asking for passage home!”

There was a beat of silence, and you wondered if you might have miscalculated. Both Ricks just stared at you and you felt yourself start to sweat. Maybe threatening the unhinged super intelligent scientists wasn’t your brightest idea.

“W-we gotta level with her, G-163.”

“Fair enough,” He nodded, “She’s not a Morty.”

You decided against responding to that. You crossed your arms and tilted your head expectantly.

“O-EUURP-kay.” Rick G-163 said, typing into his projector. “These here are Gravitron Pearls.” 

A constantly morphing sphere floated in front of you. Within it swirled long mesmerizing tangles of gasses which pressed at the perimeter of its prison. The seething mass was hypnotic, even through a hologram.

“What matters is what’s inside.” G-163 pressed a button and you got a close up on what honestly looked like spaghetti. If spaghetti was made up of shimmering and throbbing multicolored strands.

“W-within that are a tangle of ultra-dense neutrons, the strongest substance in the known universe. I-it would take roughly 10 billion times more force than it takes to shatter steel to destroy a plate of this stuff.”

You could feel your mind start to race. The implications of that were huge: weaponry, ships, body armor, unbreakable machines! 

All in the hands of the Citadel.

Chills rolled down your spine.

“Where does this…um neutron spaghetti…come from?” 

Your Rick cut in. “A-a neutron star. The remnants of a massive su-EUurp-er nova. Not exactly something you can get from Trader Rick’s.”

“Wow.” You said, staring at the hologram. The tangle of matter rippled. 

“Yup.” G-163 ended the display. “A sugar cube’s worth weighs as much as Mt. Everest. Obviously, someone figured out how to collect AND pa-EUurp-ck this material for easy transport. Special orders from the Citadel government.”

“Shit.”

“Y-yeah.” G-163 said, leaning back and taking a swig from his flask. “S-still wanna call the Citadel for help?”

“No.” You said, looking down and feeling a flush of shame. Your Rick was resting against a wall with his arms crossed, laser focus on you and you alone. 

“Who…who tried to kill us then?” You asked, shoving the memories away forcibly. G-163 raised his brow.

“The Sixth Star.” 

“Huh?” 

“Keep up, idiot.” Rick growled which you met with a glare. “The Sixth Star. A renegade group of Ricks still loyal to the old council.” 

“That seems…dumb.” You were still confused. “Haven’t the original Council of Ricks been gone for a long time?”

“Y-yes.” G-163 was definitely the more patient Rick. “B-but they were Zeta Alpha’s personal acolytes. Th-they thought of causing suffering as a way of life and the only truth of the universe.”

“Great.” You said sarcastically. “So they’ve got their hands on this….space pasta….and are going to use it to make people suffer as much as possible?”

“M-maybe?” Your Rick butted in. “We don’t know. Just that it would be safer not in their hands.”

You were unimpressed. “So you want it in your hands instead.”

“Basi-euurp-cally.”

The worst part of their stupid logic is that it actually made sense. Out of the three devils you knew, you could at least expect Rick G-163 to be somewhat responsible with it.

Your Rick, on the other hand....You could see him mixing together various liquids in vials, apparently bored with the conversation. He raised the mixture to his nose, sniffed, made a face, then shrugged and downed the entire thing.

Nice.

G-163 was busy amassing what looked like enough high tech weaponry to outfit the entire Citadel militia forces. You opened your mouth to ask what it was for, when he began to load in into various pockets and pouches stitched into his clothing. Within seconds it had all disappeared and he looked like an average Rick. 

“I’m going out.” He announced. “D-don’t fucking follow me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You muttered. An errant match lit too close to his lab coat and everything within a mile would go up in flames.

“See you later, Ri-EUurp-ck.” Your Rick slapped him on the back. When G-163 had crossed the parking lot Rick turned to you and said, “Sheesh, what a paranoiac.” 

You laughed quietly, but it quickly petered out. Rick swayed a bit, eyes glassy and unfocused. You hoped he hadn’t accidentally managed to poison himself.

“Rick…” you said hesitantly. “Do you need to lie down or something?”

“Y-you think I can’t handle myself?” He asked, glaring in your general direction. You held up your hands trying to soothe him.

“No! You’re fine! You’re great!” You winced as he took a long drink from his hip flask.

“I-I am.” He said, waggling a finger at you. “I-I don’t feel the need to shove down all my desires so I can fit into whatever bullshit society has instilled in me.”

That struck a nerve. “My self control isn’t about anyone but me!” 

“S-sure sweetheart. Might I remind you that I remember y-you begging for my cock.”

Your face started to warm, as did…other places. “Shut the fuck up, Rick.” You snapped and he laughed mirthlessly.

“F-fine. I will. IF you tell me that y-you’re not interested and never want to fuck again.”

“I…” You felt the words die in your throat. You swallowed hard. That would be cutting off your nose to spite your face to the most extreme degree. You didn’t want to admit it, but you really wanted to feel him back between your legs. You ached for it. 

“I…”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirked, then crossed the room with only a few strides of his long, long legs. 

He practically tackled you back onto the bed. His mouth tasted warm, but sharp with the ethanol burn. He shoved a knee in between your thighs, and you whimpered into his mouth.

“S-see, (Y/n)? Letting go can be fun.”

You bit his lip in frustration and he tangled his hand in your (h/l) hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to look him in the eye.

“D-don’t be naughty.”

“Why?” You purred, slipping your hands underneath his blue shirt. You ran your nails down his back and his whole body shivered. 

“I’ll have to teach you to respect your elders.” 

You couldn’t hide the shudder of anticipation that passed through you. He slipped a single long finger down your stomach and felt the slickness that was coating your thighs.

“D-do you want this, (Y/n)?” He asked, licking his finger clean. Your core clenched, that was so…lewd.

“Answer me.” A note of warning entered his voice. You tilted your head, deciding you want to push the boundaries.

“You tell me.” You tried to shove him backwards, so you could be on top, but he didn’t move.

Amusement crept onto his face. “Y-you really miscalculated there.” You went pale.

He gave a quick tug and you fell across his lap. You felt your face heat up at the undignified treatment, but before you could open your mouth and get yourself into more trouble he shushed you.

“Y-you’ve got a cute ass, (Y/n). I-I’ve been thinking about turning it bright red since I saw you.” He kneaded the flesh, sending a tingle straight to your pussy. Without warning, he brought his hand down hard! You yelped, squirming frantically but he held you firmly.

“T-that’s all you can take? Pitiful.” He brought his hands down three times more on each side. You could feel yourself growing more turned on with each blow. Rick didn’t ease up. Each smack only burned more and more as he layered handprint on handprint. Tears leaked out of your eyes, as Rick rubbed the reddened flesh.

“Shhh,” He murmured, “I’m just getting started.” 

You couldn’t suppress a whimper. His throaty chuckle reverberated through your bones.

“W-wait until we’re back in our dimension. I’ve got some fun stuff tucked in the garage. But, until then…” 

You opened your mouth to ask a question, but your eyes were covered with a thin strip of fabric. “Hey! I can’t see!”

“T-thats the point.” Rick’s voice came from beside your ear and you jerked away from it. 

“R-rick?” You said, feeling around blindly. You weren’t brave enough to try to take off the blindfold.

“Lie still, (Y/n).” He ordered. You settled back down, heart hammering.

A sudden feeling of heat on your sex left you gasping. Rick forcibly held your hips down as he swirled his tongue around your clit. You cried out as he manipulated you skillfully. The heat and pressure was building within your core when he stopped. 

You moaned in frustration, arching your back when you felt lips on your breast. Rick played with your nipples, tweaking them firmly until you were squirming underneath him. 

Your hips bucked of their own accord. “Rick, I swear to God….” 

“W-what (Y/n), did you not learn anything?” 

You shook your head. “No! I did! I swear!” Your bum was still tingling and sore. 

“D-doesn’t sound like it to me.” Rick said, his voice roughening. “S-sounds like we gotta do this the hard way.”

He flipped you over, shoving your face into a pillow. He slipped two fingers into your pussy, swirling them around. You tried to move into them, but he quickly took them out. You were ready to scream.

The frustration was replaced by elation when he began to rub your clit. You were so close! Just as you felt your climax begin to peak he brought his hand down on your ass. 

The mixture of pain and pleasure had you shrieking. He kept circling your pearl the entire time you body was quaking. The overwhelming feeling of release ripped through your core and entire body. Your orgasm left your ears ringing and pussy aching. 

“Rick…” You breathed, limbs like noodles. 

“D-don’t give out on me now, sweetheart.” Rick held your face into the pillows as he plunged into you. You yelped as your overstimulated walls clenched around the intruder. He didn’t even pause, as he fucked you doggy-style into the bed. Within seconds, you began to move with him of your own accord. The feeling of fullness reawakening your libido. Rick’s hand grasped your hips so hard you knew you’d have bruises the next day. You were losing yourself in the feeling of being fucked well when you hear the door open. 

“Hey, G-163.” Rick said, not slowing. You felt your face burning. 

Before you could get any words out, Rick continued. “W-wanna join in?”

“Sure.” You could hear G-163 walking towards you. At least you hoped it was him. “W-what do you say, (Y/n)?”

Fuck it. Rick’s steady thrusts were interfering with your ability to experience any emotion beside overwhelming pleasure. “Yes!”

You heard the other Rick unzip and something large and warm pressed against your lips. You obligingly opened your mouth and felt him press his length in. You ran your tongue over his cock, trying to balance on one hand while maneuvering with the other. You bobbed your head trying to take as much as you could without choking. It was surprisingly hard to concentrate with your Rick jackhammering into you.

You were languidly licking up and down G-163’s shaft when you felt a hard smack on your ass that left you tearing up. 

“D-don’t get lazy.” A Rick warned you. You nodded and began to redouble your efforts. You were rewards with G-163 moaning and fisting his hand in your hair to pull you on and off his member. Your Rick had decided he liked to spank your ass as he fucked into you. Each time he made contact with your flesh your moans vibrated up G-163’s length. Your jaw was just starting to ache when you felt his cock pulse. He tilted your head back and came into your mouth. Then he closed your jaw with a single finger and you got the hint, swallowing. Your Rick thrust into you hard a few more times then slipped out, releasing his cum onto your flushed and stinging ass. You dropped down onto your stomach, reaching for your blindfold when one of them grabbed your wrists.

“Uh uh. We’ve got one more thing.” 

Before you could draw breath, two mouths were on you. One on your breasts and one on your pussy. Despite feeling exhausted and spent, their combined efforts brought you back to life and you shuddered as the second orgasm of the night peaked and raced through your core. 

You lay there panting, legs quivering but obediently not touching the silk covering your eyes. A Rick pulled it off and you hissed as the sudden brightness pricked at your eyes. 

“H-hurry up and shower. You reek of sex and we have a ride to catch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty guys! We're rapidly reaching the climax (no pun intended). I'm still not entirely sure how many chapters this will take, but I've got it all planned out ^^
> 
> Also nuclear pasta is an actual thing. I don't have the first idea of how anyone would get ahold of some, let alone use it for anything. But I'm not a genius super-scientist.


	10. Storm Brewing

You froze, worried you’d alerted the border control Ricks to your presence. 

“What do we do now?” You asked as softly as you could manage.

“Shut up!” G-163 said, staring at his handheld thermal scanner. 

“Don’t tell me to shut up, tell Rick to stop humping my leg!”

“S-stop thinking so highly of yourself, its the movement of the ship.” 

“Would you turds please take your domestic somewhere else, we-we’re going to get caught!”

A beeping sound silenced you all at the same time. Heavy footfalls moved around the perimeter of your shipping container.

“W-what’s in here? I can’t get a reading.” Someone asked. You held your breath.

“Radioactive material, sir.” 

“Y-yeah, it’ll melt your face!”

“Aw jeez, Rick. M-maybe we shouldn’t open it.”

“N-no shit, dumbass. I-I don’t really want my face melting off. Also its our lunch break, I want a drink.”

“Looks like your rampant alcoholism finally paid off.” You mumbled. Rick flipped you off, but as he was nuzzling into your breasts the gesture was softened. 

You had resigned yourself to being locked in the crate forever when the whole thing collapsed.

The three of you were splayed out on the floor of the ship, sweaty and sticky. You pushed your hair out of your eyes and met the gaze of an extremely bored looking Longshoreman Morty. 

“P-pay up.” He ordered and G-163 nodded, tapping on his phone. An alert dinged and the Morty nodded, walking off without a backwards look.

“J-jesus.” Rick grumbled, stretching his back. “I-I’m getting too old for this bullshit.”

G-163 nodded emphatically. You barely restrained yourself from commenting. 

“So, what’s next on the agenda?” You asked, almost afraid of the answer. 

“W-we’ve got a meeting with a mob boss. Th-they’ve got a bone to pick with The Sixth Star. Miami set it up.”

“Ugh.” You said, your entire body sagging. “Do we ever get a break? We could like go on vacation or something.”

“N-no can do.” G-163 said. “We’ve g-got to get that shipment before anyone else does.”

“I’m guessing we aren’t telling the mob bosses about it.”

Your Rick tossed an arm around your shoulder jovially. “S-see she’s not as dumb as she looks.”

“As far as they’re aw-euurp-are, this is a straightforward revenge mission.” 

You sighed. When had lying to the mafia ever ended badly?  
****  
It was impressive really. While you had been worried at first that the meeting place (a plush Art Deco bar) was too conspicuous, it seemed like everyone was giving your table a wide berth. The Morty that had been sent to take your orders was sweating bullets. You tried your best to smiley kindly at the teen, but he almost tripped over his own feet in an attempt to run away from you. 

“Was it something I said.” You half joked, leaning back to look at the decorative lights. Rick mumbled something about, “Probably worried about having to spend all his credits on outfits for some brat”.

“Excuse me?!” You were flabbergasted. “Maybe if someone didn’t keep shredding my clothes in the heat of passion we wouldn’t have to buy more!”

Rick opened his mouth to retort, but G-163 held up his hand. 

“They’re here.”

You took advantage of the distraction to throw an olive at the older man, but you were quelled by the look on G-163’s face.

“Hello, gentlemen.” You turned to appraise the newcomers. 

It was almost comical, the way normal patrons shuddered and moved away from the group of men. For all intents and purposes they looked like a group of business men, in perfectly tailored suits and matching 40s style hats. Each Rick had a Morty with them, but that didn’t make them any less intimidating. If it came down to a fight, there were 10 of them and only 3 of you.

Hardly good odds.

The Rick who had spoken nodded and the others fell back, flanking him. 

“G-go on Mortys. Grab yourselves some drinks. Except for you, Mortimer.”

The four Mortys swaggered to the bar, chattering and shoving each other. The one left behind didn’t seem upset at being singled out. His face was carefully schooled into an expression of disinterest, but you didn’t miss the way he carefully scanned the room. 

“I’m Rick Sanchez, dimension I-318.” He extended a hand, and brought your knuckles to his lips. “This is my grandson, Mortimer. My future heir.” 

Mortimer nodded at you and you did your best to smile. 

“My name is, (Y/n). This is the Rick from my home dimension, and the other is…”

“Rick G-163!” The mob Rick seemed genuinely excited to meet him. “Miami Rick was telling me about your little escapades. I must congratulate you on your..ah…removal of Rick F-390. Bad business, very bad.” 

“I uh, a-actually didn’t kill him.” G-163 said, hands fidgeting with a napkin. “I-it was all (Y/n).”

Mob Rick looked over at you with newfound interest. “Is that so? Impressive…maybe I should see if I can find a version of you who will work for me.”

You felt your palms start to sweat, but was spared having to answer by your Rick cutting in.

“S-she cried for days after. Not much of a killer instinct.”

Mob Rick was unfazed. “Killer instinct is often taught, despite the name. Isn’t that right, Mortimer?”

At this, Mortimer genuinely smiled for the first time. It was not pleasant. “Exactly, Grandpa Rick.” 

You could feel Rick’s leg starting to bounce under the table. You distracted yourself with a sip of your cocktail.

“Allow me.” Mob Rick raised an arm and the Morty waiter immediately appeared.

“W-what can I get you?” His voice cracked slightly. 

“My usual, please. For the young lady?” He gestured at you. 

“Um, I would like a Southside please.” You sank back into your seat as the other Ricks ordered. Mortimer asked for a scotch, despite being 14, but the waiter didn’t even hesitate, scurrying away.

You noticed the Ricks accompanying I-318 hadn’t ordered. They hadn’t even taken their sunglasses off. You realized, despite their beautifully fitting clothing, odd lumps could be detected if you looked closely enough. 

A chill ran down your spine. They were armed to the teeth. Snippets of movies and books you had read floated to the forefront of your mind. Enforcers.

You mentally shook yourself and returned your attention to the conversation. You caught Mortimer staring dead at you. When you made eye contact, he shifted slightly, rearranging his suit jacket. For a split second, you could see the lethal looking gun tucked into his shoulder holster. His expression never changed.

You looked away, refusing to let yourself be intimidated by a 14 year old. The waiter Morty arrived, with a full tray of drinks and some bar snacks.

You sipped your cocktail, it tasted strongly of gin. Mob Rick winked at you, “J-just a little Sanchez Special. I do business with the owners of this joint.” 

You smiled, lifting your glass to him. You were sure his motivations were significantly less altruistic. Most likely he was trying to dilute the Ricks’ natural intelligence.

Your Rick was glaring at his drink like it had mortally offended him. You pinched him. 

You tried to pretend that his intense stare didn’t send a warmth straight to your lower belly. 

G-163 was manipulating his hologram map. “T-this is where Miami said the Sixth Star would be, if the information he has about Jessica’s Angels is up to date.”

“It is.” Mob Rick confirmed, taking a long sip of his drink. “I-I don’t usually interfere with Mortytown’s little turf wars, but they were cutting in on my business.” 

“W-we took care of them, t-that building should be empty.” Mortimer agreed, swirling his lowball glass. 

G-163 smiled, teeth gleaming in the low light of the bar. “Then that’s our spot. I’ve tracked the unique signature of the package in question. I-its there.”

Mob Rick leaned back, his cold, calculating glare made the hair on the back of your neck stand straight up. “What’s so special about this package?”

Rick-163 took a swig of his drink. “N-nothing I’m comfortable discussing.” 

The effect was instant, but so quick you almost missed it. Every enforcer Rick twitched in the direction of their concealed weaponry. You glanced quickly over your shoulder. Their Mortys, who had taken the table behind yours, stopped their conversations and were facing you.

Awaiting orders.

Mob Rick shrugged, and everyone relaxed. Your Rick let out a quick puff of air. 

“So w-what’s the deal then? We charge a commission.” 

Your Rick answered this time. “Full elimination of the Sixth Star and 500,000 credits.” 

“500,000?” Mob Rick looked impressed. “That’s some mystery package.” 

“I-its incidental.” G-163 said flatly. “I-I’d go broke just for the chance to take these fuckers out.”

Mob Rick raised his brow, “I’m sensing you have a history.”

G-163 said nothing, instead lifting his blue shirt to reveal a ghastly red-purple scar just above his hipbones. It spanned his entire waist, indents left by the blade still visible despite the age. 

You felt your abdomen tingle. You covered your growing nausea by finishing your drink in a few quick gulps.

“Zeta’s boys really did a number on you.” Mob Rick said quietly, watching G-163 tug his shirt back into place. “Revenge is a motive I can respect.” He gazed at the three of you, eyes lingering on your face. He nodded to himself then stood. 

“W-we’ll be in touch.” Mob Rick promised, shaking G-163’s hand. “P-pleasure doing business with you.” 

Rick helped you up, that drink had been very strong. You swayed slightly but managed to grip Mob Rick’s hands. His fingers ran lightly over your palm before he released you.

He had opened his mouth to bid you farewell when Mortimer, moving faster than you could process, turned and shot an approaching Rick through the heart. The corpse wavered before toppling over, blood puddling underneath it.

“Hit man. Sons of Sanchez.” Mortimer said, re-holstering his weapon. 

Rick laughed, ruffling his grandson’s hair. “S-see what I mean? Killer instinct.”

Mortimer ran his hand over his head and replaced his hat. With a jerk of his head, the other Mortys sauntered over, bunching around him. Some were sniffing and rubbing their noses, eyes bloodshot and twitching. 

“C-clean this shitstain up.” Mob Rick ordered, an enforcer shot a beam at the corpse and it disintegrated. Mob Rick carefully stepped around the tiny pile of ash and out of the bar, dress shoes clicking across the shining wood. His entourage followed. 

You felt sweat beading on your forehead. Your Rick flagged down the traumatized waiter and ordered three triple vodkas on the rocks. You ordered an additional Sprite, frowning at Rick, who had thrown politeness to the wind and was gulping from his flask like a man dying of thirst. 

G-163 on the other hand, was burning a hole into the wallpaper with his gaze. The image of his gutted stomach rose behind your eyes.

“Rick?” You asked hesitantly. He didn’t even turn to look at you. “Are….are you ok?”

G-163 didn’t say a word. He got up and left, walking purposefully out of the bar. You looked up at your Rick and he waved you off.

“H-he’ll be fine. Mostly tomorrow when we ma-EUURp-nage to rip those assholes limb from limb.”

“Why did they do that to him?” You asked, tears collecting on your lower lashes. Rick didn’t say anything at first, pulling the drinks delivered by Morty towards him. He poured half of G-163’s portion into each of your glasses, then cracked the Sprite can. He pushed both towards you, then sipped at his.

You poured as much Sprite as physically possible into your glass, but the vodka still burned. Part of you was glad for the distraction.

“Wrong place, wrong time.” Rick finally said. “T-they got him for something he d-didn’t even do.” 

“That’s horrific.” You said, feeling your chest tighten. Rick answered so softly you almost didn’t hear him.

“Y-yeah. It is.”

You both sipped at your drinks, silence filling the space between you, as the waiter Morty vacuumed up all that remained of the unfortunate assassin Rick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New challengers have appeared! 
> 
> I'm hoping to still get about a chapter a day out, but I've caught up to my prewritten stuff :( Hopefully I can squeeze my writing juices out enough, but if this doesn't update for a day or two don't panic! I'm not abandoning it! 
> 
> I love Mortimer so much tbh. I think he'd be a ruthlessly efficient right hand man. We see Morty really start to come into his own after only 4 seasons. Mortimer's past is pretty unclear, but we can assume that his Rick had very different expectations for him than most, and it definitely shaped him into a very Rick like Morty. 
> 
> Poor G-163. He's had a rough go of it, but hopefully he can get some catharsis soon.


	11. Falling Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we start this chapter I would like to clarify who "Don Rick" is. Yeah, its the mob boss, but typing it out sounded clunky and stupid. 'Don' is both a spanish honorific meant to be used as a symbol of respect or for an older individual (it depends on the region) and also a term within the italian mafia, denoting someone of high ranking. 
> 
> I didn't really want my Citadel mafia to be an exact cut and paste of the italian mafia because that's lame, so I decided to use a term that could be interpreted as either or. Organized crime syndicates exist pretty much everywhere. 
> 
> With that annoying discussion out of the way, enjoy!

“You are NOT coming with us!” Rick yelled, throwing up his arms in frustration. 

You could feel angry tears forming in your eyes. “I am NOT waiting here alone! What if you die?! Am I just supposed to sit here and starve to death without getting back to my dimension?!”

“No! Now you’re hesitant about going to the council for help?!”

“I was never actually going to DO it!” 

Rick G-163 cut in. “Alright, alright. Everyone shut the fu-UUrp-ck up.” 

You and Rick both turned to face him, and he glared at both of you.

“(Y/n), you aren’t coming.” You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off. “N-no. This is way above your pay grade. You stay here, lock the doors, and d-don’t go near the windows. If we’re not back within two days go to the Citadel militia and ask for safe passage back to your dimension.”

Your cheeks heated up with frustration, but you nodded curtly. Rick seemed satisfied, taking a quick drink from his flask before motioning to the array of weapons they had amassed. 

“W-we should get ready.” 

G-163 nodded and pressed a button on a round sphere. It split in half, and the pair took their places. 

“Computer, trigger plan Zeta A-Euurp-lpha takedown.” G-163 and your Rick pressed their buttons simultaneously. The machine scanned over them, generating a sort of black metal exoskeleton over their forms. 

Rick flexed his encased fingers, you could hear the joints of the body armor clicking with him. Each movement sounded mechanical.

“They’re not very quiet.” You noted, frowning slightly. G-163 glared at you, “D-don’t question my craftsmanship. This isn’t a stealth mission.”

You shrugged and moved towards the windows, tugging at the blinds. “Where are you meeting the mob Ricks?” 

“A-at the edge of Mortytown. A couple blocks from their hide out.” Your Rick answered, pressing buttons on his metal suit so he could load in various gadgets. “W-why?”

You squinted through the window. “Because someone’s outside right now.”

“What the…?” G-163 didn’t even finish his sentence when the door to the safe house exploded in. You shrieked, scrabbling with the blinds hoping to get the window open. 

“R-relax.” A very formally dressed Morty walked through the smoke and dust, offering his arm to you. You took it hesitantly.

“Mortimer?”

He gave you a curt nod and you let him escort you back into the living room. Don Rick was there with 8 able bodied Ricks, all encased in their own form of protective armor. 

“My apologies.” He said, taking your hand and pressing his lips to it. “I-I figured you wouldn’t need the house now that we’re going to take out the Sixth Star.”

“W-what the hell?!” Your Rick started forward. “W-where are we going to put, (Y/n)?! Y-y-you blew the door off of her her hiding place!” 

Don Rick tilted his head in a parody of confusion. “Hiding place? She can’t hide alone, of course she’s coming with us.”

You swallowed hard. Now that you had no choice but to go, you definitely preferred staying here.

“I could stay here?” You offered quietly. “Maybe I could just stay in the bedroom?”

“Nonsense.” Don Rick gave you a tight smile. “You’ll come with myself and Mortimer. We’ve got a truck that will allow us to monitor the action, while remaining safely in the observation car.” 

Rick looked like he wanted to argue, but G-163 was holding him back with a hand on his shoulder. You nodded at him and he relented slightly. 

Don Rick pretended that he couldn’t feel the tension filling the room. 

“S-shall we go gentlemen and lady?” 

You nodded, allowing him and his men to move ahead. You fell in step by your Ricks. 

Nobody said a word.  
****

The term 'observation van' was a bit of a misnomer. It was more like a long haul truck. The inside was every bit as overdone and plush as you expected. While the entire wall closest to the cab was covered in screens, the rest was done up in cream leather upholstery. You weren’t surprised to see a bar in the least. As you had entered the two technician Ricks had nodded at you, hats and suit jackets hung on a coat rack (a coat rack!) build into the interior. One Morty attendant hovered around the bar, ready to supply you with whatever you wanted.

The posh effect was disconcerting when contrasted with the 10 heavily armored Ricks clanking and whirring their into the vehicle. You felt like you were at a particularly bizarre sci-fi themed prom.

Don Rick seemed to have a specific seat, opposite the screens. Nobody else went near it. He gestured to the spot on the row, nearest to him. You awkwardly walked over, tugging the hem of your slip dress down. 

Would you like something to drink?” He offered genteelly. You cleared your throat and asked “Do you have water?”

You jumped slightly as Mortimer slid right next to you. The kid seriously gave you the creeps.

“Water?” Don Rick asked, sounding scandalized. “Today? Don’t be silly. Have some champagne.” 

You accepted the glass, brought silently to you by the attendant Morty. You smiled weakly and took a tiny sip. 

Don Rick seemed satisfied, and he stretched out his long legs. The attendant Morty quickly reappeared holding a martini glass. 

“Vodka martini, heavy on the vodka.” He said, registering your interest. 

Don Rick was staring at you, “Have a sip.” He offered. You sensed that it was an order. You could almost feel your Rick stiffen, but you kept your eyes on Mob Rick, taking a mouthful.

You coughed. “Wow, that’s strong.” 

Don Rick smiled, but said nothing. He rotated the glass so he could put his lips where yours had been. The effect was both intense and creepy. 

You fidgeted with the hem of your (f/c) t-shirt, surreptitiously stealing a glance at your Rick. He was boring a hole in you with his gaze. Even G-163 was frowning slightly. You turned your gaze back to your drink, Mortimer was watching your Ricks through the corner of his eye. You took another small sip of the champagne, rolling it in your mouth to see if you could sense anything off. You hated admitting that it was high quality, even if it was just to yourself. 

“O-okay.” A technician Rick spun in his chair to face the rest. “We’ve identified the heat signatures within the building. W-we confirmed there’s only 7 Ricks inside the building, like G-163 said.” 

“S-so the plan is that we send in two Ricks as preliminary scouts, followed by the rest. One will stay by the front door…”

You felt your eyes glaze over. The tactical talk was boring and you were feeling a bit sleepy. You went to take another sip of your champagne and realized it was gone. 

A waiter Morty brought your another drink without being prompted. The mint leaves and fresh smell of lime and gin tipped you off that it was a Southside. You smiled genuinely at the mob boss Rick, letting your guard down. He waved you off good-naturedly and returned his gaze to the planning session.

You were jarred from your reverie when the truck came to a complete stop. Your heart started to thump, you had arrived at the destination. Beneath this dilapidated, but ordinary looking shop was one of the most violent underground societies of Ricks. You wondered how G-163 was feeling. You turned to look at him, his eyes were closed and he was fiddling with something shiny and silver around his wrist. You frowned, wondering if he was ok. 

His carefully controlled breathing tipped you off, he was in a meditative state. You trusted your Rick to keep him safe. A sudden flash of light blinded you, and you realized he had a wickedly curved knife attached to his belt.

Unbidden, the phrase: ‘An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,’ came to your mind. You felt another twinge of guilt for having killed F-390, but for the first time it was because you had denied Rick G-163 the pleasure. 

The Ricks were preparing themselves, running last minute checks on their strange metal exoskeletons and thumbing through the maps projected on the inside of their face shields. The technician Ricks set up their spy gear, preparing to monitor the entire raid. 

No wonder the Mortytown gangs didn’t stand a chance. 

Mortimer and Don Rick were the only ones besides yourself who didn’t move. They merely sat observing their men ready themselves. You were distracted by your Rick motioning to you. 

You quickly stood, worming your way through the Ricks to get to him. He placed his hands on your shoulders, looking deeply into your (e/c) eyes. 

“(Y/n), be careful. Don’t piss that guy off, b-but don’t get too close. Just stay quiet and alert. S-stop drinking too, your tolerance is worse than my grandkids.” 

You nodded, feeling tears rise. You were so scared for him and G-163. Part of you wished you were going in with them.

A much smarter, much less brave portion was so grateful you were staying safe in the truck that it made you weak in the knees. 

Your Rick surprised you by giving you a quick kiss on the forehead, then shoving you away. You stood stunned for a moment, before reaching out to snag his hand.

“Be careful.” 

He nodded and made his way out of the vehicle. You managed to grab G-163’s arm on the way out. 

“Take care of each other.” You said softly. He gave you a sad smile, but didn’t say anything. You could see his fingers running over and over his blade. 

You moved onto the plush bench and out of the way of the mob Ricks. You decided that sticking by the technician Ricks would be your best bet for keeping tabs on the action. A sudden movement startled you, but you realized it was just Mortimer, offering you your cocktail. 

“Thank you.” You said, taking the glass. He said nothing, moving back to sit next to his grandfather. The pair started murmuring to each other, but you tuned them out in favor of watching the raid progress. 

The technician Ricks had an incredibly sophisticated set up. No matter how much wildly improbable sci-fi technology you saw with your Ricks, it still astounded you. One screen displayed 10 blinking dots, all different colors, moving throughout a map of the area. Another showed the heat signatures of the building the Sixth Star were residing in. 8 smaller screens displayed footage from what must have been body cams located in the mob Ricks’ suits. You bit your lip as you saw your Rick glaring at the wearer of camera #5. 

“Sanchezes, you may now move into position.” The lead technician Rick spoke into his microphone. Your heart was in your throat. The other technician began to type a string of commands into the terminal. 

All the Ricks pressed a button on their helmet and the face shields deployed. You could only tell which Ricks were yours by their black colored armor and G-163's silver…accessories.

Why didn’t they coordinate their armor with the mob Ricks? They would be easy targets.

You glanced at the Rick and Morty, who were still speaking in low tones. You weren’t sure you trusted them. Were they really that uncurious about the package? Had the Sixth Star really interfered with their businesses?

“Hold your position.” The lead tech ordered, and you focused on the action again. 

“Ricks 2 and 4, go ahead.” 

The glare of the setting sun on the silver of Ricks’ body armor made it hard to see what exactly was going on. The next thing you knew, the doorframe was empty and smoking. Two Ricks entered, clearing the area then summoning the rest of the team. 

The video glitched but stabilized. The tech Ricks began typing furiously and making manual adjustments. 

“There’s some kind of block.” The lead technician said. “P-probably a basic jammer. Not entirely effective against our equipment, but it’s annoying.”

Don Rick waved his hand. “Proceed with caution.”

The lead technician kept feeding the team information. The entire structure was labyrinthine, extending much farther below ground than the original building suggested. You watched as G-163 behaved more and more erratically. Little tells, like rubbing the silver bracelet or twitching towards his sword abounded. He even seemed to be muttering some sort of mantra, it was getting picked up by an enforcer Rick’s sensitive helmet. You hoped he could hold it together enough to get back safely. 

The team stopped suddenly, camera feeds going dark. You jumped out of your seat, moving towards the screens. The second technician Rick waved you back.

“Sanchez? Sanchez? Can you hear us?” The lead tech asked. 

“N…no….hallway…casualty….going…” Fizzed through the speakers. The technicians postulated about the cause, long fingers flying over the keyboards.

“More sophisticated defense technology the closer to the heart they get…” 

You blocked them out, moving purposefully towards the door. You could grab a weapon from a fallen Rick if you needed to. Maybe some of the spent devices, but you couldn’t just leave your Ricks in there alone. 

You had your hand on the door handle when Mortimer stopped you.

“You aren’t leaving.” He said coldly. You glared at him.

“The hell I’m not. You can’t keep me here!”

He sighed, and it reminded you painfully of Rick. “Its-its suicide. You’re going to get yourself and the others killed.”

You felt your shoulders slump as you relented. He was right. You turned and bumped into Don Rick. You hadn’t heard him come up behind you. He laughed quietly, reaching out to steady you.

“S-sit down. It will all be fine.” 

You swallowed hard, but did as you were told. Your Rick’s words ringing in your ears. You couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing anxiously. The sounds coming from the monitors were sickening. You could hear curses, screams, orders, and the sounds of various explosives and lasers going off intermittently through a haze of white noise. You wrapped your arms around yourself and waited for it to be over.

A sudden silence caught your attention and you looked up. Had you finally lost the comms link? The technicians both swore quietly, but when you looked up at the location trackers, the dots seemed to be coming closer.

“T-this is Rick G-163, do you copy?” A gruff voice echoed through the speakers. You felt your breath catch in your chest.

“T-this is Rick S-038 from control, we can hear you.”

“T-those sons of bitches are dead.” He couldn’t keep the cold triumph from his voice.

You immediately burst into tears, sobs echoing through the car. You heard your Rick grapple with G-163 for what seemed to be the only functioning communication line.

“….Jesus, is that (Y/n)? She sounds like a sea lion giving birth….(Y/n)? Can you hear me?”

You thought your heart would burst right out of your chest. “Yes! Yes, I can Rick!” 

“W-we got em. Every last one of those sons of bitches. I’ll see you soon baby.” The line cut out.

You sagged backwards, dizzy from the feeling of release. Once you got your bearings, you checked the GPS monitors.

There were only 7 Ricks returning. #2, #6, and #8s’ vitals had flatlined. Dead. There were no heat signatures detectable in the belly of the building. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from throwing the door open, early awaiting the return of your Ricks. They had just reached the burnt remains of the front door when you tried to run to them.

Someone had your wrist in an iron grip. 

You turned and your blood ran cold. Don Rick was holding a particularly lethal looking gun to your head. The technicians, bartender Morty, and Mortimer were also armed and training their weapons on you. 

“Hello, Messrs Sanchez.” Don Rick said, sounding for all the world like he was conducting a simple business meeting. He transferred his grip from your wrist to your waist, arm curling around your midsection. 

“W-what do you want, you bastard?” Your Rick looked worn, armor scuffed and dented. G-163 looked positively fiendish, covered in blood and gore. One hand gripped a knife dripping with viscous fluids. The other held a large nondescript briefcase. 

“I would like the Gravitron Pearls, Mr. Sanchez.” Don Rick smiled pleasantly. “Quickly, I’m afraid I’m impatient. I might lose focus and my finger could slip.”

“Y-y-you son of a bitch.” Rick growled, teeth bared. G-163 said nothing, dropping the silver knife to the ground before approaching the van.

“Ah ah.” Don Rick warned, pressing the gun against your temple. “Not too close.”

Without being summoned, a mob Rick grabbed the briefcase and walked it over. Mortimer reached out, examined the contents, and then nodded at his grandfather, snapping the case shut neatly.

“N-now give us the girl.” You Rick ordered, chest rising and falling in a shallow pant. 

“Let’s make a deal.” Don Rick said lightly. “I forgive your 500,000 credit debt, and I get to keep her.”

“No deal.” Rick was seething.

Don Rick was unfazed. “That’s a shame. Kill them and dump the corpses.” 

The remaining members of the raid teams deployed their weapons and advanced on your Ricks. You barely got out a scream of “No!” before Mortimer closed the door and the van drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will the cliffhangers never end?
> 
> Man, I definitely did not anticipate how difficult writing multiple Ricks would be.
> 
> A Southside is a prohibition era cocktail, one that is both extremely tasty and I find very fitting for the theme of these chapters ^^
> 
> Also I'm bad at fight scenes...I apologize for mostly skipping over them. Feel free to copy and paste various creative fights from the show into this to fill in the gaps. Make sure that G-163 ends up covered in blood. It's sexier that way. 
> 
> We're approaching the end I think! Once I know for sure I'll update the total chapter count. This is so much longer than I thought it was going to be. It keeps getting away from me, I hope you don't mind!


	12. Last Stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so just a warning. Things do get a little bit more....sketchy. It teeters just on the edge of noncon, but definitely does not cross over.
> 
> WARNINGS FOR CREEPY/ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR, THREAT OF HARM, NONCONSENSUAL "FLIRTING", GENERAL ICKY STUFF

Don Rick kept the gun trained on you until Mortimer had finished cuffing your hands and ankles. You were seething with rage. 

He didn’t seem to care. He tossed his hat to the attendant Morty and stretched his legs out.

“J-just think about it this way. I-I don’t have to take a version of you from another dimension.” He smiled at the thought. You felt a shiver of disgust pass through you. 

“Really, you’re saving her.” 

“I’m honored.” You said sarcastically. Don Rick’s face darkened.

“I don’t tolerate disrespect.” 

You swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.” 

His effusive grin came back like it had never left. “I think we’ll get along well. I’m not that different from your old Rick after all.”

You felt a sudden swell of sadness and rage hit you. Your brows knitted together and a few tears slid down your face. You hoped Rick wouldn’t notice. 

Unfortunately, he did. He looked over and shushed you, cradling your bound form gently. It really felt like your dimension’s Rick and you let yourself unleash your sorrow.

“I-its ok.” He said, smoothing his hand over your (h/c) hair. “Let it out.” 

He gently wiped away the wetness from your eyes, but he couldn’t hide the small frown of dissatisfaction. You looked up at him, face puffy and swollen and he snapped his fingers. The attendant Morty brought him a damp cloth and he gently patted your face.

“Y-you’ll get used to it.” He said, running his fingers through his hair. He settled you back onto the plush bench and moved to sit near his grandson. 

“L-let me see that stuff, Morty.” He said, gesturing to the simple briefcase. 

Mortimer handed it to him and Don Rick began to scan it. You were surprised, but knew you shouldn’t be. All Ricks had superhuman intelligence, but they didn’t all follow the same path. 

At last he popped the shiny silver latches. The well oiled hinges made no noise as he lifted the lid. A shimmer of multicolored light played across his face.

Your heart clenched painfully. It was so easy to see your Rick in his facial features, they were identical after all. But usually there was something more reserved in Don Rick. He was like an alligator, standing stiller than the grave until he struck. 

Your Rick was much more impulsive. His natural inclination towards pleasure seeking was obvious right down to how he held his long limbs. He had forgone inhibitions long ago and now thrived on adrenaline and living on a knife’s edge. The man embraced agony and ecstasy in equal measure. 

All of these so called certainties were upended by the look of wonder on Don Rick’s face. His look of unbridled triumph, colored by the ever shifting iridescent light, brought to mind the fierce joy on your Rick’s face when you successfully managed to fly a car into space. You started at the case with wide eyes, a part of you wishing you could see the objects that had inspired such passion. 

Even Mortimer had relaxed slightly, his brown eyes wide and childlike. You wondered if they had even known what they were taking. 

What G-163 and your Rick had risked so much for. The bile rose in your throat. You weren’t sad anymore, you were angry! How dare these assholes who made a living by cosplaying a shitty version of the Godfather ruin everything? How dare they decide that they got to take whatever they wanted?! Including a human being?! You decided you weren’t going to let them take you to a second location.

You shifted slightly, scooting yourself over towards the now forgotten observation equipment. A quick glance towards the bar told you that the technician Ricks had decided to celebrate a job well done with a drink. 

You tried your best to remember which button had triggered the door opening. Was it on the control panel or by the door itself? 

Aha! Right next to the door was a big red “In Case of Emergency” button. You wouldn’t have much time. You’d had to shuffle over, hit the button, jump, and hope you could hide or get help from someone on the street.

Not great odds, but hey. It couldn’t get much worse.

Suddenly a crackle of static pierced everyone’s ears. 

“….He…ell…o….shi….ut…..wh…..ello…an….one….re…..py…”

You felt your heart climb to your throat. Someone had connected to the radio channel?

“…(Y/n)? Shit. Are you there? Come on baby, talk to me.”

You reacted, launching yourself to the console and hitting the button that would project your voice.

“Rick! I’m still in the van! Ri-“ You were bodily yanked away. Unable to catch yourself you collapsed onto the ground. You rolled yourself onto your back but before you could stand, Mortimer’s shiny dress shoe pressed down on your chest. You could feel the bones compressing slightly. 

“T-turn that radio off you pieces of shit!” Don Rick yelled, the technicians turned pale. 

“(Y/n)! We’re coming! We’ll get you out, don’t wor…..” 

The lead technician sagged as the static fuzzed out. He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a laser punching a hole straight through his eye socket. The second technician soon followed. Mortimer wiped the blood from his face with a white handkerchief, unperturbed. He roughly hauled you up and shoved you towards his grandpa. 

Rick’s gun was still smoking as you faced him. You braced yourself for the worst, but instead he backhanded you across the face. You fell again, your shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. You could feel your cheekbone puffing up already, but you still maneuvered into a sitting position. You refused to lie at his feet like a dog. 

Don Rick massaged his temples, then reached into his breast pocket for a slim silver cigarette case. He selected one and lit it. Crouching down to your level he blew a puff of smoke into your face, making you cough and left your eyes stinging.

“I should get rid of you.” His voice was as steady as if he were discussing the weather. You winced slightly, but said nothing. He tilted his head, eyes running over your face. 

“Your Ricks taught you bad habits.” 

You hissed slightly as he probed your aching cheekbone, the bruise already starting to bloom. He puffed on his cigarette meditatively. Your chest was tight with fear.

“Are you worth it?” He mused out loud. You felt your skin prickle. 

“G-grandpa Rick?” Mortimer said, breaking the spell. Don Rick looked up.

“Yeah, Morty?” 

“I-I can’t get in contact with any of our Ricks.” 

The jolt of adrenaline that surged through you didn’t go unnoticed. 

Rick swore quietly, staring down at you through narrowed eyes, his gun hand twitched before he nodded. “Fuck the evasive maneuvers. Get to the warehouse, w-we’ll make a dimension jump as soon as I recharge my portal gun.”

You felt your blood run cold. If they took you out of this dimension you were as good as gone. It could take years for Rick to track you down in an infinite universe. 

You hoped they showed up soon.   
****

The warehouse was freezing cold. Nobody had given you a coat or a blanket, each shiver chafing your wrists. They hadn’t removed your cuffs either.

Don Rick had been sure to let you know it was your own fault. He’d then run a long finger around the perimeter of your wrist, the contact burning the raw skin. The gleam in his eyes at the sight of your pain was deeply unnerving. 

You shuffled as far as you could away from him. 

He tapped his foot impatiently. Mortimer was hard at work organizing the enforcers to make up for the loss of the 8 Ricks. They were only grunts, but still, it was a frustrating number of trained people to lose. Not to mention their equipment. 

His sudden reappearance behind you made you jump. He chuckled, and you flushed angrily. You spun as quickly as you could, without losing your balance.

“How may I help you?” Your tone was cold.

Don Rick arched his brow. “Who are you? How did you even make it to the Citadel?”

You bit your lower lip, debating how much damage answering that question could be. The impatience in his voice pushed you to respond truthfully.

“I fell though a portal.” You mumbled, looking down. In hindsight it was pretty embarrassing. 

“Speak up.” Don Rick tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

“I fell through a portal that appeared in the living room of your house!” You said, a little more heatedly than you meant. Even Mortimer turned to stare.

Don Rick laughed so hard he started to wheeze. “Its-its a good thing you’re pretty.” He said, wiping tears of laughter from his face. “T-that’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.”

You began to daydream about strangling him. The laughter took a while to peter out, but when he sobered he was back to bothering you.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, you had to fight down a shiver. His eyes searched your face, running over your features. He brushed his thumb over your lips before placing a hand around your neck. He squeezed gently, savoring the way the panic rose in your eyes. 

He let go and you staggered back from him, tripping over the ankle cuffs. Just before you fell, he caught you by the chain linking your wrists. Your entire weight pressing the thin skin of your wrists against the biting metal brought tears to your eyes. He hauled you upright, then lead you over to a nearby dingy sofa. He sat, long legs outstretched then patted his lap. You got the hint.

You awkwardly clambered on to him, stiff as a board. He sighed and adjusted your limbs, molding you against him. It was…surprisingly soothing. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend it was your Rick. 

When he spoke, the vibrations rumbled through his chest. “I’m the smartest man in the universe, (Y/n). I-I know you’re thinking of him.” 

“And what about it?” You asked, forgetting yourself.

He absentmindedly stroked your thigh, running his fingers in circles along the flesh. “Y-you’ll have to get used to me at some point.”

This struck you oddly. “Why do you want me so badly?” You asked, fully aware this could backfire. 

He answered with a question of his own “W-why did the other Rick want you?”

Bolded by his response, you pressed a little harder. “Did you know about the briefcase?”

His finger stilled, then twitched. You held your breath. 

“No.” 

You breathed out. His whole body had tensed underneath you. He began to mutter in a voice so low you almost didn’t catch it. 

“I knew I wanted it when I saw it. I-I didn’t want anyone else to have it. Th-they tried to lie to me, tried to tell me it wasn’t important. Tried to hide it from me!” 

“I took everything from them.” He said, “I-I-I gave him everything and at the peak of triumph I took it.”

“You’re hurting me!” You said, trying to pull his hand off your thigh. He looked down in surprise, he’d gripped your leg so tightly that his nails had dug into your soft flesh. Just like that, his cool professionalism returned. 

“The Sixth Star was just some dumb cult. A snake without a head. Their only real achievement was taking the Gravitron Pearls right out from under the new regime’s noses.”

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. When he reopened them he smiled at you. 

“I covet, (Y/n). A-all Ricks do. We covet the extraordinary….we covet what makes us feel good. Whatever we want in the universe becomes ours. People are either tools, pawns, or prizes.”

You felt very small, the full weight of a Rick’s experience crushing down on you. If your Rick had access to multiple universes, why bother with you?

You voiced your concern very quietly. “Why do you guys keep me around then?”

Don Rick looked at you. “I-its simple. You’re either extraordinary, easily expendable, or you make us feel good.”

“Which am I to you?” You asked. 

“We’ll find out when we get off the Citadel.” Don Rick said, pushing you onto the couch. Mortimer waved at him and he stood, brushing off his dress pants.

The answer didn’t feel especially comforting.   
****

Once Rick had sent his subordinates off to their respective stations, his fingers worked deftly to create fluid for the portal gun. It was almost completely empty, with only enough charge for an emergency jump to a nearby planet. 

You wondered how the Citadel had managed to regulate portal technology so effectively. Even the mob was too scared to have more than strictly necessary on hand. 

You didn’t have much to do besides sit and wait to be kidnapped. It was surprisingly boring. 

You ran through your options, mentally wincing. It wasn’t looking too good for you. You future seemed to be waiting for that suave creep to enjoy molesting you enough that you wouldn’t get shoved into the vacuum of space…charming.

You weren’t in much condition to fight, and one against two or more weren’t good odds at the best of times. 

You idly wondered what your parents would think if you just never came back. What kind of trouble would the Smiths be in? Would Rick just transplant a different version of you into your dimension? 

Your gaze was locked on the hypnotic glowing green chemicals Don Rick was swirling around. It came to you suddenly. 

Smash it.

It obviously didn’t take a terribly long time to make, but it was inconvenient. Every minute you remained on-planet was another minute your Rick had to find you. You swallowed hard. 

Trying to avoid jangling your chains, you shuffled over praying that Don Rick was too immeshed in his work.

Mortimer looked up, you froze but luckily he was focused on what was coming through his earpiece. He cursed, then picked up his weapon.

“R-rick. They’re here. I’ll keep them away from the inner doors. Hurry.”

“Co-EUurp-py.” 

Mortimer raced off and you braced yourself. Now was your chance. Rick placed the beaker down and you shoved it with two hands, eyes closed waiting for the inevitable reaction…

When nothing happened, you opened them. Don Rick was staring at you, brow raised. His hand holding the beaker steady. All your bravado dried up, and you backed away. 

He advanced on you, looming over you with a frightening look on his face. 

“Y-you really tried. Didn’t you, y-you stupid bitch!” He punctuated the expletive with a vicious smack. You held your hand over your cheek, eyes watering. 

“Y-y-you really thought that you could get away with that? Y-you thought you could outwit the smartest man in the universe?!”

Your back hit a wall, you froze, eyes darting around for a place to run to. Before you could move, Don Rick was on you, painfully pinning your shoulders against the unyielding surface. You gave a small cry as he pressed his body against yours, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“Y-you better hope you’re a good fuck. I’m rapidly running out of reasons to let you keep breathing.”

You could feel your heart start to race. That was your last hope gone.

Don Rick pulled out a gun from his pocket and you closed your eyes. Something embedded itself into the wall next to your head. 

He yanked your cuffed wrists up, and you looked. He’d embedded what looked like a ring piton into the concrete walls. He ran a carabiner through the ring and your handcuff chain, then melted the connector. He tugged your arms roughly, and you yelped in pain. You were stuck. 

“S-should’ve done that hours ago.” He said, leering at you. His hands played with the hem of your dress. You tried to edge away from him but there was nowhere to go. He was about to slide his hand up your skirt when you were interrupted.

“G-get away from her, you crusty old turd.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty guys, I'm thinking we are officially approaching the end! 
> 
> I'm still working on the last couple of chapters, so unfortunately there's going to be a bit of a wait time. This might be a bit longer because I've officially started work! Which is good! I'm doing check-ins at a COVID-19 vaccination site. Buuuuut, its a full 9-5 so unfortunately the last couple of bits of this might be a bit slow, but not forgotten!
> 
> Thank you for your patience!


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